Casper II
by NeitherSparky
Summary: Well, that's what it is: a sequel to Casper I wrote ages ago.
1. Chapter One

**Casper II**

a _Casper_ sequel  
by Sparky

_Introduction _

_Feel free to skip this introduction and go straight to the story; I just felt the need to explain a few things about this fic first since I wrote it so long ago. _

_I actually wrote this story between 1995 and 1996, shortly after the movie Casper came out, intending it to be a proper sequel, unlike the direct-to-video 'movies' that came out years later. But what I ended up with was something with a weak plot, contrived characters, and jokes that wouldn't amuse a two-year-old. In other words, something that reads very much like a direct-to-video movie. :) _

_I recently dug out the only hardcopy I had (it was originally on a Mac which I don't even have any more, let alone the floppy disc the story was saved on) and retyped the whole thing onto my new computer, and this is what you have here. I didn't bother attempting any rewrites; this is the original fic, as I wrote it back in '96. Plotholes, dumb characters, everything. Aren't you lucky? 8) _

_I saw Casper Meets Wendy once, and as I recall there were many similarities between that and this story - but like I said, I wrote this in '96, and CMW came out in 1998. So, don't blame me, I didn't copy! And I'm too lazy to change this story now. _

_I really really really want to majorly overhaul this thing and make a proper fanfic of it someday, but since I know I will probably never find the time, I decided to swallow my pride and share the current version with the world, only because there are so few Casper fics out there, yet I know there are many Casper fans. _

_I apologise now, though. ;) _

_- Sparky_

_Chapter I_

The squirrel had found a nut.

It stood in the middle of the snow-covered highway, clutching the acorn with both paws protectively. Would anyone try to take the nut away? It had taken a lot of work to dig it out of the snow. The squirrel peered around suspiciously. No - no one in sight. Good.

But before the rodent could begin to try to crack the acorn's tough outer shell, there was a roar from overhead. The squirrel watched a helicopter, painted an army drab, fly out of the hazy sky and head off towards the nearby town of Friendship, Maine. That interruption over, the squirrel again prepared to devour the acorn, but this time had to abandon its hard-earned meal entirely and scurry to the side of the road as a military jeep was followed by a long, impossible line of similar jeeps, all heading for Friendship. Somewhere in the middle of the procession drove a large truck with "Corwyn Glass Co." airbrushed on the doors.

As the jeeps made their way through the town heading for the coast, the citizens of Friendship began to awaken. People peeked out their windows to eyeball the procession wearily, then went back to bed, grumbling. They'd seen this all before. Many, many times before.

As for the men in the jeeps, well, none of them had actually _been_ on this mission before, as new soldiers were recruited every time. These men knew nothing of what awaited them.

Their destination: Whipstaff Manor.

The helicopter reached Whipstaff first, and began to circle over it to give the jeeps time to arrive. The mansion on the hill was dark, forboding, and one could even say it seemed to loom over Friendship like some sort of scavenger waiting for a dying animal to finally turn belly-up and provide a free meal. (In fact, those were the very words recently used to describe the manor by Channel 8 reporter Jerry Gerard, who was admittedly known for theatrics during his broadcasts.)

The first jeeps reached the gate, and two soldiers hopped out to push the protective (but unlocked) gates open before getting back in their vehicle. With that done, the jeeps made way for the construction truck, which pulled into the mansion's impressive long driveway, followed by as many of the jeeps as could fit on the property - but they left a space large enough for the helicopter to land in, which it did. The soldiers vacated their jeeps, creating quite an impressive sight. Decked out in helmets, rifles, more than enough ammo for any situation imaginable, and heavy packs complete with bedrolls, the soldiers marched left and right. An outsider would have thought they were in Vietnam, if it weren't for the Atlantic Ocean view.

The helicopter's door opened, and two men wearing blue suits, dark glasses (despite the early hour), and clutching walkie-talkies that appeared to be permanently affixed to their cheeks climbed out and stood stiffly on either side of the helicopter door. A third man stepped out of of the aircraft and stood between the other two. He wore a drab brown tweed suit, peach dress shirt, and dark green tie. He smiled childishly at his two companions. "Is this Disneyland?" he asked eagerly.

The blue-suited men did not answer. Instead, they prodded the man in the tweed suit with their elbows and all three of them started towards the front door of the house.

Behind them, the pilot of the helicopter, who also wore a blue suit (but had dark goggles rather than merely dark glasses), put his his right hand to the side of his headphones. "Yes sir," he said into his headgear's microphone in response to a distant question, "the Mayor has arrived."

The Mayor and his bodyguards climbed the porch steps and faced the door. One of the blue-suited men nodded to the other, who noded back; then they were nodding in succession. When they were finished, they took a simultaneous step forward and rapped firmly on the door with the hands that were not clutching their walkie-talkies. They paused, then did it again.

Before they could do it a third time the door was opened by a disheveled man in crumpled pyjamas. He put on his glasses and pushed back his unruly hair to blink at his familiar visitors. "Yes?" he said in a voice that matched the tired look on his face.

"Mr. Harvey?" barked the blue-suited man on the Mayor's right.

"Mr. _James_ Harvey?" barked the man on the Mayor's left.

The disheveled man leaned in the doorjamb. "_Dr._ James Harvey," he clarified.

"_Dr._ Harvey," sneered the first man, "in ordinance with agreement C and in compliance with requirements H, D, and L, Mayor Hymer of this town, namely, Friendship, Maine, has made arrangements to install a window on the third floor of this structure to replace one that is cracked."

James opened his mouth to interrupt, but was interrupted himself by the second man:

"You, _Dr._ Harvey, and your child, one _Kathleen_ Harvey, are asked to stand aside while the workers complete the task outlined in Contract Q. They have requested protection as granted to them in Subparagraph V."

The second man broke off and nodded to the first man. He nodded back, then they both nodded to the Mayor.

The Mayor was pouting. "Mother wouldn't let me go on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride," he whimpered.

The bodyguards glanced at eachother, then nodded over their shoulders at the boot camp being set up behind them. In response to their signal, the soldiers marched, single-file, past James and into the house. It took more than a minute for them all to get inside. They were closely tailed after by two men in bright orange hardhats who had arrived in the construction truck. They carried between them a large pane of glass.

The Mayor was guided down the porch steps by his bodyguards so they could view the replacement of the cracked window, which was in plain sight on the third floor at the front of the house. There were several moment of silence. James bowed his head and, moving clear of the door, waited patiently.

Loud, manical laughter echoed throughout the house.

The two construction workers, minus their pane of glass, ran spastically out of Whipstaff, screaming in hysteria. They jumped into their truck and barrelled their way through the jeeps on their way back to the highway.

The construction workers were soon followed by the entire military troupe, who were also screaming hysterically. It took a lot less time for them to get _out_ of Whipstaff than it had taken for them to get in. The last of their members had lost his helmet and was clutching his head as he ran. The soldiers shoved past the oblivious Mayor and his stiff bodyguards, broke camp, jumped in their jeeps, and drove away. Sensing real danger, the helicopter pilot switched on his vehicle and took off in haste, even forgetting to close the door.

The Mayor began practicing bird calls.

A final figure rushed out of the house. It was a twelve-year-old girl, viciously swinging an aluminum baseball bat like a Mongol warrior's club. She was wearing a flannel nightshirt and a military helmet.

"Kat!" cried James, truly awake for the first time. "What are you doing?" He grabbed the bat away from his daughter.

"I hate - " growled Kat, ripping off the helmet and flourishing it at the Mayor, who was honking like a Canada goose, " - that man."

"Young lady," said the bodyguard on the Mayor's right, stepping forward, "you are in serious violation of Subcontract X, Paragraph 387."

The second bodyguard nodded his agreement. "If this behavior continues, the entirety of Plan A will have to be terminated."

Both bodyguards nooded at the Mayor, who took this as a prompt to speak.

"I have a rock that looks like Marge Simpson," he announced proudly.

Before either of the Harveys could consider this, however, another manic burst of echoing laughter was heard, this time specifically from the third floor. A second later, the cracked window swung open to let out the new pane of glass. It arced through the air, then plunged, corner first, into the snow at the Mayor's feet.

The Mayor promptly put his mouth close to the glass, breathed on it, and proceeded to draw a smiley face in the resulting vapor with an index finder.

The laughter from the third floor started again as the bodyguards grabbed the Mayor by his elbows and began to haul him away.

"Wait!" cried the Mayor. "It needs a nose!"

"You are not complying," said the first man over his shoulder to the Harveys.

"We will retalliate," added the second man. They beat a hasty retreat through the gates and down the hill.

James put an arm around his daughter, who absently tossed the helmet out into the yard. He led her back inside and shut the door behind them with the baseball bat.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Kat scribbled furiously on a piece of paper. Upon noticing her father peering curiously over her shoulder, she quickly folded the sheet and stuffed it in her math book.

"What was that?" James asked, after taking a sip of his coffee.

"Um..."

"You didn't finish your homework again last night, did you?"

Kat shrugged. "Well Dad, I think better in the morning."

James looked up as he poured maple syrup in his coffee. "Don't be silly," he informed her. "No one thinks better in the morning."

A small ghost with large blue eyes flew in with the newspaper. "They forgot to put it in a bag again," he told everyone, dropping the soggy mess on the kitchen table. "Hey Kat," he said eagerly, "wanna go hang out at the mall today?"

Kat shook her head. "Nah, Casper," she said. "It's the last day of school before Christmas Break. Everyone will be there."

James, who had discovered the recent mistake with the syrup, cleared his throat as he poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. "About Christmas, honey," he said, unsure of just how to phrase what he wanted to say.

Kat stopped him by speaking up. "I know there isn't much money, Dad," she said. "We'll be on the road by then anyways." Here she stole a glance at Casper, who was busy packing her lunch for school. Kat and her father usually tried to avoid talking about moving, especially around Casper, but they had to talk about it eventually, right? It was just over a week before Christmas, and the Mayor had only given them until the thirty-first of December to get out of Whipstaff. They planned to start the drive to Wisconsin, where James had once held a practice, Christmas morning. They'd already packed most of their stuff in boxes, but then living out of boxes was nothing new to the Harveys.

Casper, for once, didn't speak up at all at the mention of his living friends moving away. He just silently put a banana in the brown paper bag and folded the top over.

There was a loud thump from the second floor, followed by two raucous voices joined in teasing laughter. Kat chewed on her lower lip. No one was sure exactly how to feel about the other three residents of the household, the ghosts who called themselves Casper's uncles (Casper had, in fact, verified that they were not truly his uncles, but it had always semed convenient to call them that). While they continued to be noisy and rude and to make sick jokes whenever the humans were around, they _had_ stopped torturing Casper with their horseplay and actually could be trusted to leave most of the Harveys' possessions alone.

But what really bothered Kat was the way they pestered her father.

"Hey _Doc_," said Stinkie loudly, poking his head through the coffee maker, "are we getting' a session today?"

James, wisely not turning around, grumbled something into his coffee mug.

"Yeah, come on, Doc," agreed Fatso, appearing half out of the refrigerator. "We haven't had a session in a _long_ time!"

James still didn't turn around. "We had one two days ago."

"But," protested the big ghost, throwing his arms wide, "we're not _cured_ yet!"

Casper sighed and shook his head.

"I have an appointment with Viola Laslowe at nine-thirty."

Fatso's lower lip began to tremble. "But Doc," he cried. "We want to become happy, well-adjusted ghosts! You promised to help us!"

Stinkie sobbed piteously. Kat hid her face in her hands.

Fatso began to blatently overact. "_You care more about that wrinkled old fleshie than you care about us_!" he wailed, flinging a forearm over his eyes. Casper managed to turn a chuckle into a cough.

James put his mug down on the counter. "All right," he said. He glanced at the clock. It was almost eight. "But you only have until nine."

Fatso and Stinkie beamed happily.

"And," James felt compelled to add, "Mrs. Laslowe is not old, she's just...middle aged."

Fatso shrugged.

Kat got up and accepted her lunch from Casper. "All right, I'm going to school," she announced to the room, putting the brown paper bag in her backback after her math book. She hoisted the backpack over one shoulder. "Bye Dad. Bye you guys." She kissed James on the cheek and headed for the door. On her way out she almost ran into (or through) Stretch, who had just gotten up and had descended from upstairs like a stormcloud. He was still sleepy and irritable from having been woken at dawn after a typical night of partying. He and Kat glanced at eachother the same way they always did - with distaste - then the tall ghost floated past Kat to join his smiling companions in the kitchen.

"Learn something!" Fatso called after Kat as she slammed the front door.

"Don't count on it," snapped Stretch on his way across the room. "Outta my way, Microbe." He shoved Casper aside.

"All right boys," said James, putting his empty mug in the sink and heading upstairs. I'll go get my charts."

Stretch immediately brightened at James' words. "Charts?" He grinned wickedly. "A session, eh?"

"You know," said Fatso, inflating himself proudly, "_I'm_ the one who got the doc to agree to a session in the first place."

"He was good, too," Stinkie had to admit.

Stretch grimaced. "You actin' again?" he asked Fatso. "Good thing I missed _that_."

Stinkie shrugged. "Well, the doc _has_ to have a session with us," he said. "He's _our_ therapist. I don't see why he has to go see that frumpy old Laslowe gal anyways."

"Mrs. Laslowe pays him," Casper said quietly from the sink where he was washing the breakfast dishes. "That's how _he_ can afford to pay the Mayor so he and Kat can stay here until the end of December."

Stretch sneered at the little ghost. "Nah, you got it all wrong, Balloonhead. They're stayin' here cuz we let 'em."

Fatso and Stinkie agreed wholeheartedly. "Yeah," said Fatso, leaning on the counter, "it's _our_ house."

Casper shook his head. "No, we told you guys," he reminded them, shutting off the faucet. "It's really _my_ house - only...only dead people can't legally own anything."

Stretch laughed loudly, echoed by his buddies. "_You?_" he demanded. "Well, tell you what, Snotnose: The day you ever legally own anything is the day _we_ hit the road. Right, boys?"

Fatso and Stinkie agreed, then roared with laughter at the very idea of Casper ever legally owning anything. Casper sighed heavily and went back to scouring the coffeepot.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

"So - you actually gonna _talk_ to her one day, Romeo?"

Vic trudged stoically along down the main hallway of Friendship Junior High. "Yeah," he told Andreas Steubing in the manliest voice he could muster at eight-thirty in the morning. "I will...today."

"Uh-huh," said Andreas.

"Right," said Andreas' twin brother Nicky.

"We believe you," they said together.

"I will!" Vic stopped to turn to his friends. "I swear."

Andreas squinted at him. "Well, you'd better," he informed Vic. "Especially since today is the last day of school. Who knows if you're gonna see her again before she moves."

Vic shifted his weight to the other foot. "Hey," he protested, "you guys said you wanted to meet her too."

The twins glanced at eachother and shrugged.

Vic paused for a moment, then resumed his march down the locker-lined hallway, joined by the Steubings. He had been dying to talk to Kat ever since the Halloween Dance, but he just didn't have the nerve. That snooty Amber Jensen, who had called herself his friend, had told Kat all about how he had first stood Kat up, then had helped try to humiliate the new girl in front of the whole school. This, of course, happened just before Amber transferred to a private school in Castle Rock - but it was no consolation to Vic. Kat hated him now for sure. He just wished he could at least apologize to Kat before she left and remembered him as a major jerk forever.

"There she is!" Vic hissed to the twins. The three boys watched in silence, along with everyone else in the hall, as the Harvey girl dialed the combination on her locker, hit the top of the door twice with her palm, then swung it open.

"Hi Kat!"

Kat looked around and leaned into her locker. "Casper!" she hissed. "Not here! Someone will see you!"

Casper smiled. "I don't think anyone would get that close."

Kat had to agree. As usual, everyone was keeping their distance from her, preferring instead to keep to the other side of the hallway in order to pass by. "Oh, but in a minute someone will," she reminded the ghost as Vic and the Steubing twins approached. Vic had his locker right next to hers, and he and his friends Nicky and Andreas were the only students in school who would actually get near Kat. Apparently the three boys, who between them had seen all four of the spectral inhabitants of Whipstaff Manor, actually thought Kat was kind of cool for being so...different.

Nicky and Andreas drifted off to their respective lockers (but not without first giving Vic a prodding look), and Kat ushered Casper farther back in her locker as Vic stepped up next to her. As usual, he said nothing, but kept stealing glances at her. Kat thought he was such a flake.

"What's he doing?" whispered Casper curiously when he noticed Kat glancing back at Vic periodically as she put her lunch on the shelf next to the ghost's head.

"He's staring at me again," she whispered back. "Oh wait...Oh God I think he's going to talk to me - " She shoved her backpack in the locker to cover Casper as Vic leaned a bit in her direction. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then the inevitable happed.

Wendy Wainright arrived.

"_Get it away from me! Get it away!_" Wendy stumbled down the hallway, a latex squid wrapped around her head. "_It's draining my will to live!_" She grinned madly at the commotion her act had triggered: terrified students, Vic and the twins included, hastily shutting their lockers and rushing off, early, to first period. Then Wendy casually opened her locker and suffed the squid in. She smiled at Kat, whom she wasn't surprised to see was the only one left with her in the hallway. "Hi Kat," she said.

Kat smiled back at the blonde girl. Wendy was weird, but she sure was entertaining. "Hi Wendy. So what's up?" Kat answered, glad to have a girl around who would actually talk to her without first being dared to. Wendy was one of the few students at their school who didn't attend the infamous Halloween Dance at Whipstaff - Wendy's explaination being that she didn't do anything that promoted school spirit, which, in her own words, "is worse than selling your soul to the Amway Lady."

Wendy shrugged as she pulled a book out of her locker and put it in her totebag. "Oh," she said, "I don't know what to write for that stupid American History paper. You're lucky you don't have to do it."

Kat shrugged too. Actually, she wouldn't have minded doing it so much if that meant she could stay. But she didn't say that. "Yeah but my Math teacher gave me a 'special assignment' so he could see if I learned anything during my 'stay' in his class. He's not going to grade it or anything."

"So, turn in a paper that says 'Sorry but the dog ate my brain' or something. What could he do?" Wendy slammed her locker shut, dislodging a 'Danger: Radioactive Waste' sign and sending it tumbling to the floor. Wendy absently picked it up and affixed it to the water fountain.

Kat smiled.

The bell rang.

"Bye!" Wendy called, skipping off down the hall. Kat waved to her, then pulled her backpack out of her locker, freeing Casper's movements once again.

"See you in the cafeteria?" Casper asked needlessly - both of them knew he would be there.

"Sure."


	2. Chapter Two

_Chapter II_

James pointed to a chart depicting an abstract representation of the Material and Astral Planes, letting the tip of the ruler rest on a spot within an overlap of the two graphics. He stoically ignored the amused snickering which emenated from the room behind him. "You," he began, "are _here_ - "

An enormous ectoplasm-covered spitball composed of the contents of an entire loose-leaf notebook splattered right in the middle of the Material Plane. The snickering grew in intensity.

James lowered his ruler and looked over his shoulder to regard the unruly Trio, who quieted immediately and presented him with angelic smiles all around. "Now," he said, gingerly removing the Planes chart from its rack and placing it on the floor, "moving on."

The last chart was a dot-and-line type graph. "This," James explained, "shows the distribution of the Astral and Material Planes present in people: from life, to existance as a ghost, to after they have crossed over. That last one," he added, "was born of my own speculation, of course."

He looked again over his shoulder at the Trio, who stared dumbly back at him. "You may want to take notes on this part," he said helpfully.

Fatso raised his hand and began waving it like a checkered flag at the Indy 500. "Ooo! Ooo!" he cried urgently.

James slumped. He felt like Mr. Kotter. "Yes?"

The big ghost opened his notebook to reveal that it was empty, save for a few shreds of binder paper, the sort that gets left behind when one hastily rips the stuff out without bothering to open the rings first. "I'm outta paper."

This caused Stretch and Stinkie to start snickering all over again. Fatso forced himself to remain as impassive as the therapist, which made the other two snicker even harder.

James straightened up and turned back to his chart. "Borrow some from one of the others," he said quickly, and without further comment from anyone, he resumed the lesson.

"Here," said the psychiatrist, indicating the first dot with his ruler, "is Life. The person is mostly Material, although I theorize that even during life we all have a bit of Astral present in our physical beings. I believe this explains the so-called sixth sense."

Stinkie belched rudely. Fatso passed a note on a piece of paper he had borrowed from Stretch.

James slid his ruler to the second dot. "Ghosts are more or less comprised of an equal mixture of the Material and Astral Planes, which is why you can fly through walls and everything, but can still exist here on the Material Plane. In fact, you can probably exist on either plane, as opposed to a being which is _more_ than half Astral - they wouldn't be able to exist here at all."

Stinkie made armpit noises. Fatso passed another note.

"After the soul has crossed over," James concluded, his ruler indicating the final dot, "they are mostly Astral, but I am of the assumption that they have as much of the Material Plane in them at this point as they had of the Astral in life. I believe that someone who has crossed over can reverse the entire process, making reincarnation possible - "

"Hey Doc," interrupted Stretch, without bothering to raise his hand first. "Is there gonna be a test on this or something?"

James gripped the ruler in both hands. "No."

"How do you know all this stuff, Doc?" Fatso wanted to know.

"I've been studying parapsychology for a long time," was the doctor's answer. I've always been interested in it." He didn't bother to mention to add that in this case, 'always' meant following his wife's death.

Stinkie cupped his chin in his hand, leaning on the table. "Jeez," he commented, "didn't you have _any_ friends when you were a kid?"

James smiled wanly and crossed over to his chair. He sat down and folded his arms on the desk. "Only a few," he said truthfully.

"So being a spaz is kinda like a family thing then."

James looked directly at Stretch. "Kat is not a 'spaz'," he clarified. "She's just having difficulty...adjusting to her new school."

"It's been two months."

"A _lot_ of difficulty."

Stretch raised an eyebrow.

"You know," Fatso announced to his two buddies, "I for one am proud that the Doc decided to waste all his ghostly knowledge on us."

Stinkie bobbed his head in affirmation.

"Well, I _didn't_, really - " Here James stopped upon noticing the Trio glaring at him. "That is, I'm taking notes on everything I'm learning about ghost therapy from working with you three. I hope to put out a publication on the subject."

Stinkie stared at the psychiatrist with wide eyes. "Have you learned very much from us yet, Doc?" he probed.

James smiled again. "A little," he said, with emphasis on the word 'little'. He looked at his watch. "Well, that's your hour," he said, getting up.

The Trio grumbled their disappointment.

"You don't really _like_ going over to that screechy Laslowe gal's place, do ya Doc?" Stretch demanded.

James paused in putting on his coat to ponder. Finally he looked straight at his three patients and said:

"Well, for one thing, she's very friendly."

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Viola Laslowe opened the door and leaned in the archway of her oceanview home, smiling provocatively at her visitor. She was wearing a short tigerprint dress, which rather clashed with her unrealistically red hair job. She rapped her crimson-laquered press-on nails on the heavy oak door, her other hand busy gripping a sweating glass of an unidentifiable alcoholic substance.

"I've been waiting for you, Doctor," Viola purred (or rather, rasped). "I've _missed_ you since your last visit."

James wondered briefly why he was so popular all of a sudden. "I saw you yesterday, Mrs. Laslowe."

Viola forced down a big swallow of her drink. "Please," she insisted, wiping her lips with the back of her glass-clutching hand, "Call me Viola...James." She seized James by the lapels and hauled him inside, shoving him behind her into the foyer. After a hasty glance around outside, she slammed the door shut and bolted it.

"I apologize for the way the house looks today," Viola babbled, leading James (who really knew the way by now) towards the sitting-room, "but that damn foreign cleaning woman went and got herself deported. Here we are." She took a seat on the couch, inviting James to join her. He sat in a tapestry chair opposite her instead.

"I'm just sorry we can't hold these sessions in my own office," said James, opening his portfolio to rifle through his charts.

Viola laughed violently, losing some of her drink onto the couch. She waved James off with her free hand. "Don't be silly, dear," she told him bemusedly. "I don't care what your reasons are - besides, it's much more cozy here, don't you think?" She swung both legs up onto the couch and reclined, still clutching her drink. She leered at the therapist seductively.

James was much too busy searching through his portfolio to notice. He pulled a leather-bound notebook out to get it out of the way and set it on the coffee table, then started searching again.

Viola quickly sat back up. She eyed the notebook greedily, but said nothing.

James sighed helplessly. "I can't seem to be able to find the notes for your session..."

"That's all right," Viola interrupted him, then looked at her glass, which was still a good third full. She gulped it all down, much to James' surprise (after all, who knew exactly just what was in that), and put the glass heavily on the table next to the notebook. "Would you be a dear, James, and fill that back up for me, hmmm?" She looked at James expectantly.

James slowly got up and took the glass, then paused. "...What exactly...what was in that?"

Viola shrugged widely. "I don't remember," she told him. "Just put any old thing." She smiled broadly at him.

James paused again, looking in the glass, then wandered off to the bar in the other room (he knew exactly where _that_ was too).

Viola waited for him to leave, then pounced on the notebook. She flipped though it eagerly, stopping near the end without actually reading it, and laid it across her lap. She reached under the couch cushions and came up with a tiny spy's camera. The widow then proceeded to snap pictures of the notebook's pages - and stopped suddenly. This wasn't what she wanted. She only had a few seconds to glare at the strange notes in frustration before having to quickly slam the notebook back down on the coffee table upon hearing a fierce canine yapping from the bar.

James walked in with the fresh drink, a small lap dog of indeterminate breed latched onto his ankle. The animal was drooling profusely, and had already suceeded in soaking the cuff of the psychiatrist's trousers.

"Pavlov!" chided Viola in fiegned anger, stuffing the camera back into the couch. "Stop that! Right now!" She clapped her hands sharply. The dog detatched itself and ran to its mistress, canine saliva making a trail in the plush carpeting. It looked over its shoulder at James and growled.

"I don't think he likes me much," James commented, setting the drink down before Viola.

"Oh pooh," said Viola, patting Pavlov on the head and picking up the glass. "Pavlov wuves you. We both do." She took a long, slow sip of the transparent, bubbling liquid, then pulled the glass away and stared at it. "Oh, James!" she cried. "This is _absolutely_ the most _fabulous_ drink I've ever had! What's in it?"

"Plain soda water. I'd rather you didn't drink during our sessions." James sat back down and put his notebook away. "Well, I'll have to do this without any notes - "

"James," Viola interrupted him urgently, "how has your _book_ been coming?" She leaned forward, listening with rapt interest.

"Oh." James scratched the back of his neck. He had been finding himself in the past openly discussing his work with Viola. Oh well, he thought, what did it matter? Viola wasn't involved in the psychology field.

"I wrote a new chapter last night," he answered. "_Ghostly Insecurities_. Now," he resumed, not noticing the light that came into the widow's eyes, "let's just pick up exactly where we left off yesterday. You were telling me about your husband. Again."

"Oh yes. Charles." Viola set both Pavlov and the glass down and began to rub her knees with her palms. "He was such a _stingy_ man..."

James sat and listened to the same thing he had sat and listened to nearly every day for the past month or so. He heard about Charles Laslowe's booming used car industry, his fortune, his marriage to Viola, and finally his mysterious death six years ago. Apparently, his heart had just failed in the middle of the night - at least that's what the police file said. Viola Laslowe had inherited everything.

When the widow was finished, James took his glasses off and stared at them for a moment before he spoke. "Mrs. Laslowe," he said at length, "I don't think you need therapy."

"Yes I do!" Viola insisted, sitting up straight. "I feel so empty without my husband!"

"Mrs. Laslowe, I don't think you even miss your husband."

The widow opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

"I don't believe there is anything else I can help you with." James got up and, after putting his glasses back on, retrieved his portfolio. "I'm going to make this our last session."

Viola, standing, grabbed up the glass and went to take a drink, then remembered it was nonalcoholic and lowered it to waist level. "All right," she said slowly, "if that's the way you want it." She looked longingly after her therapist.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Laslowe." James headed for the door. "Have a Merry Christmas," he called over his shoulder from the foyer.

Viola just stood silently by the couch, her free hand on her hip. She listened for the sound of the front door closing as James let himself out, then looked over at Pavlov. The dog was snoring, its head lying in a big damp spot in the carpet. She looked back at the hallway.

"Dammit," she said sourly. "_Now_ what am I supposed to do?" Then she exhaled loudly. "I've _got_ to get that chapter!"

The widow crossed to a bronze lion statue that stood by the bookcase as if guarding it and tugged its ear. The bookcase swung open to reveal a dark passageway.

"Pavlov, come," Viola called over her shoulder as she took a fancy lighter shaped like a dragon from the bookcase and flicked it on. With a snort, Pavlov roused itself and sauntered down the passage after its mistress.

Viola opened the door at the end of the hallway and entered the small room beyond. Now, this room _could_ have been described as some sort of wizard's lab, if it weren't for the fact that there was only one bunsen burner and one beaker on the rickety little table, not to mention that there were only two items in the room that could be considered even remotely arcane: a full-length mirror with a handcarved frame leaning against the wall, and an overly ornamental gold amulet hanging over the mirror's corner. On the floor was drawn a crude, unfinished chalk circle.

Viola set her glass of soda water down on the table next to the beaker. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if to clear her mind, then leaned over the table. She passed one open palm over the glass, then the other. "Whipstaff...Whipstaff..." she murmered as a picture of the mansion slowly began to appear in the surface of the soda water. Viola squinted at it. "Damn carbonation," she muttered disgustedly, then brightened a bit as the picture came into better focus and began to zoom around the interior of the house.

"Good," she smirked at length. "Nobody home."


	3. Chapter Three

_Chapter III_

Kat glanced up as Vic and the Steubing twins sat at the other end of her table. They did that every day...of course, besides Wendy, they were the only ones who would sit at the same table with her at lunch at all.

"So what do you want to do today after school?" Casper was saying from under the table.

Kat shrugged as she bit into her sandwich. "I don't know," she said after swallowing. "There isn't anything to _do_ in this town." Then she nodded towards the door. "Here comes Wendy."

Wendy walked calmly and quietly through the cafeteria, heading for Kat's table. All the kids eyed her suspiciously, obviously waiting for her to do something, but she didn't. All she did was march straight for Kat, a serene look on her face. Finally the kids seemed to give up and went back to their lunches, if a bit hesitantly.

"Heya Kat." Wendy sat down across from the other girl and swung a tall rectangular styrofoam cooler up onto the table. "Guess what happened in P.E. today."

"Uh, what?" Kat was having trouble taking her eyes from the cooler, which was covered with official-looking stencils that said things like _Fragile: Human Head_ and _Perishable: Keep Away From Heat and Frost_.

"Well," Wendy started, taking time out to make a sinister face at some girls walking by, "our coach said that since it wasn't snowing, we could have tennis today. So I hit this ball and it went into Vice Principle Leigh's convertible."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah so the coach said I had to go get it, so I went over there but Leigh's got one of those funky talking proximity car alarms. Those things are a trip. Hey, you want that banana?"

"Oh, no, here." Kat handed over the fruit.

"I'll give it right back." Wendy pulled a black Sharpie marker from her left boot and drew a leering face on the banana. "Check this out," she told Kat, then stood up.

Kat waited in great anticipation. Casper peeked through the table.

Wendy tossed the banana in the air, sending it tumbling down towards a group of eighth-graders in the corner. "_Look out!_" screeched Wendy. "_It's possessed!_"

The eighth-graders yelled and vacated the cafeteria.

Wendy retrieved the banana and took it to a group of squeamish-looking girls. "Look!" she said, thrusting the thing in their faces, "a Paraguyan Fruit Demon!"

The girls squealed and cringed. Vic and the twins took this as their cue to leave.

Kat laughed. Casper started to laugh too, and quickly had hid himself by moving so that his top half was inside Wendy's cooler.

Wendy came back and sat down. "I love bananas," she said, putting the now-bruised fruit on the table. She reached for her cooler and opened the top. "Want some Vietnamese fried rice?" She looked in the cooler.

Kat stopped smiling and opened her mouth wide in horror.

"Excuse me," Wendy said to Casper, who blinked back at her, "could you pass me that red Tupperware bowl there?"

Casper silently complied.

Kat glanced around worriedly, then leaned forward. "Aren't you a little bit surprised?" she whispered.

"Sheyeah," said Wendy, opening the container and peering inside. "I told my uncle I wanted pork."

"No, about..." Kat broke off and nodded towards Casper's hiding place.

Wendy frowned. "What, the ghost in my cooler? Not really. Why?" She procured a fork from her right boot and began to eat the rice.

Casper poked his head through the side of the cooler. "You aren't scared of me?" he asked in wonder.

"What for?" Wendy chewed. "You aren't scary."

Kat stared at the blonde in disbelief. Then she and Casper looked at eachother in excitement. Wendy was cooler than they thought! "Look, can we talk about this someplace where no one will see Casper?" asked Kat.

Wendy put her fork down. "No reason for _us_ to leave," she said, then got up and clambered up onto the table. She gritted her teeth and glowered around at the hastily quieted students, then stared straight ahead and announced in a demonic voice: "_THE RECKONING IS AT HAND. I MUST PREPARE THE SACRIFICE._"

Everyone else in the cafeteria, including the hall monitors and cafeteria workers, screamed and ran out.

"Wow," marvelled Casper in awe. "Even I couldn't do it that fast."

Wendy sat back down. "It's nice to meet you, Casper," she said politely, shaking hands with the small ghost, who came out of the cooler to float just over the table. "I haven't actually met very many ghosts - I'm only thirteen you know."

"You've met ghosts _before?_"

"Sure," Wendy told Casper. "We always get a few at our house on major holidays," she explained, putting her rice and fork away.

Kat was stunned. "At your _house?_ But what about your _family?_"

Wendy smiled. "Well, my Aunt Wynona always says that anyone who has a ghost as a friend can be trusted with just about anything, so...I guess I can tell you." She leaned forward and whispered, even though there was nobody else in the room: "We're witches."

Kat and Casper's eyebrows shot up simultaneously. "_Witches?_" they demanded in unison.

"Yeah, don't tell anyone, okay? It wouldn't be very good for my aunts' reputations as 'upstanding pillars' of our society."

Kat was dumbfounded. This was turning out to be a very cool day. "So...do you ride a broom or anything?" she wanted to know.

"Nah. I'm not allowed to until I turn sixteen. But I _have_ a broom. It's very friendly."

"But when you get older you could cast cool spells on people and bend them to your will, right?" Casper prodded mischeviously.

Wendy grinned. "No, I stopped wanting to be a politician when I was seven. Now I want to be a lawyer. I'm lucky - my Aunt Mina just married one last month. He's pretty cool. Hey," she said suddenly, "you guys want to come over to my house today after school?"

Kat and Casper exchanged excited glances. "Yeah!" said Casper. Kat nodded.

"Ok." Wendy frowned, remembering something. "Oh, but my house is kinda weird..."

Kat stopped her with a wave of her hand. "More than half of _my_ household are transparent," she pointed out. "I think I can handle it."

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

"Good afternoon, Dr. Harvey," said Bank President Wysteria Wainwright, shaking hands with the therapist. "Please have a seat."

James did as he was told, taking his place at one end of the long conference table. Miss Wainwright sat in the middle of one of the sides and straightened some papers stacked in front of her.

At the other end of the table sat Mayor Hymer, flanked by his two bodyguards (who remained standing - probably to look more important). As usual, the Mayor was...well, he was behaving oddly: this time he was making shadow-puppets with his hands, despite the fact that there _were_ no shadows to speak of in the room due to the fact that the windows' shades were all drawn. And also as usual, the bodyguards were standing up straight, with walkie-talkies plastered to their faces. They were wearing their sunglasses, oblivious to the fact thst the bank president's private office was rather dark.

"Shall we begin?" Miss Wainwright said rather than asked, folding her hands over the stack of papers.

The bodyguards nodded. "The purpose of this final meeting is to complete the monetary transactions between you, Dr. Harvey, and the First Bank of Friendship as mediated by the Mayor," explained the first bodyguard stiffly.

The second bodyguard picked up where the first left off. "Your account here will be closed and the City's account will be expanded to accept the government funding that will arrive on January the first."

Both of the guards nodded to the Mayor, who looked up, flustered. "I did _not_ eat all the Wheaties!" he protested.

"Unless you can prove ownership, you are required to have vacated the grounds of Whipstaff Manor by midnight on December thirty-first - "

Miss Wainwright cut off the first bodyguard's speech efficiently by speaking firmly: "We have been aware of the details of the deal for quite some time now. Dr. Harvey and his daughter _are_ prepared." Here she regared the Mayor so cooly that he forgot all about both his shadow-puppets and his fictional Wheaties and becan making origami swans with Forms A through F.

"...May I ask," said James bravely, "just what you plan to do with the house after you receive these 'funds'?"

"Those plans are top secret," retorted the second bodyguard defensively, and both of the blue-suited men shifted their walkie-talkies to their other cheeks in unison.

Miss Wainwright pushed her large glasses up her thin nose. "They plan to turn Whipstaff into a tourist trap, Dr. Harvey," she told her client smoothly.

"No, we're not!" protested the first man, then leaned to whisper to the second one, "You said you weren't going to tell anyone!"

"I _saw_ the notes on it," said Miss Wainwright drily. "They were posted in the hallway outside the Mayor's office."

The Mayor began to make his swans peck at eachother violently.

James was terribly confused. "But how can you make a tourist attraction out of someplace that's haunted?" he demanded. "No one would come. No one would be _allowed_ to come," he added as an afterthought.

"Whipstaff Manor will put Friendship, Maine on the map," the first bodyguard argued, deciding it was better to defend the plan rather than pretend it didn't exist.

"Yes, on the map! Right next to Stonehenge!" agreed the second man.

James and Miss Wainwright exchanged faintly disgusted looks.

"Sign those papers, Harvey," insisted the first man, indicating the stack of forms with the antenna of his walkie-talkie.

"If you do not sign them you will be in violation of Term 5, Section K," put in the second bodyguard. They both looked firmly at the Mayor, who dropped his shredded swans hurriedly.

"Oh," he said, remembering that he, as the Mayor, must say something. "I went fishing once with a fork."

Miss Wainwright shrugged at James. It had to be done.


	4. Chapter Four

_Chapter IV_

"Fold," Stinkie sighed, laying his cards face-down on the table.

"Heh," Fatso grunted to his companion. "You gotta be real smart to play this game, Stinkie." He glowered fiercely at Stretch, their dealer, who glowered right back. "You don't even have a good poker face, like me."

Stinkie sighed again. "I'm just no good at this, you guys," he said. "I'm gonna go wait for the mailman."

Fatso and Stretch watched Stinkie fly off through the wall. Since the Harveys had been at Whipstaff, the mailman had been forced to wend his way up the hill to the old mansion to drop off the Harveys' mail (mostly bills from the Mayor's office). Scaring the manly-looking postman was one of the Trio's great joys at the present. Normally the other two would join Stinkie, but this poker game was much too intense. Fatso was determined to beat Stretch - who always won - just _once_.

"Uh, I'll see your clipboard and, uh...I'll raise you this pen." (They were using the good doctor's office as a gaming room again.) Fatso grinned hopefully at his adversary. "Whadd'ya got?"

"Royal flush."

Fatso sagged in disappointment, throwing his two pair down on the table in disgust. "It ain't no use playin' wit' you," grumbled the big ghost as Stretch counted his winnings.

Stretch rapped Fatso on the head with his knuckles. "So _now_ which of you two is smarter?"

"Hey boys," Stinkie called, poking halfway in through the ceiling, "Look who's outside."

The three of them peered through the window to observe Viola Laslowe, who was standing on the walkway and rifling through her purse with a vengeance.

"What's _she_ doin' here?" demanded Stretch angrily.

"Probably lookin' for the doc," answered Fatso, and got himself hit on the head again, this time for answering a rhetorical question.

"Well he ain't here, now is he?" replied Stretch smoothly, rubbing his chin. "So I guess _we'll_ have to make her feel - _at home_...eh boys?"

Fatso and Stinkie smiled hopefully.

On the porch, Viola was cursing to herself. Where were those notes? She dug through her spacious purse furiously. They were right - aha! She pulled out a stack of photographs, taken of the pages of Dr. Harvey's notebook. She flipped through them until she found one titled _Talking To Ghosts Part One: Get On Their Level._ She read through it quickly.

Suddenly a huge spectral dragon with three heads popped out of the floor of the porch in front of her. Its red eyes burning with a demonic light, it roared horribly at Viola, who didn't flinch from her reading matter. Taken aback, it froze, the heads glancing at eachother in uncertainty.

Viola looked up. "Oh my," she murmered, and stuffed the photographs back inside her purse. She forced a smile. How exactly _do_ you get on a level with a ghost?

The dragon split and morphed back into the Trio. "Yo, Dame Edna," snapped Stretch, losing all patience. "You wanna get off our property?"

"Yeah," agreed Fatso, almost as disappointed as Stretch at failing to scare the widow. "You're trespassin'."

Viola put her hands on her hips indigantly. Well! She'd never been treated so rudely in all her born days! This idea gave her a thought...get on their level, eh?

"Hey, bleached, bloated, and ugly," she yelled at Fatso, surprising all four of them. "Where'd you get that face, out of a can of Play-Doh?"

The Trio floated back a foot or two. They were used to bantering with Kat, but not being insulted straight-out by strangers.

"No wonder she's seein' the doc," Stinkie mumbled, mostly to himself. "She really _does_ need help."

"And you," roared Viola, really getting into her stride - this was fun! "Are you the ghost of a man or a diseased skunk?" Stinkie ducked behind Fatso.

Viola beamed. She was pretty good at this psychology stuff after all. But - here she frowned - it didn't appear to be working: she really seemed to have hurt the ghosts' feelings. They were hanging back in a cluster, at a loss for words. "I guess what James wrote about you boys wasn't true, then," she muttered.

The Trio perked up, forgetting Viola's insults in a second. "What's that?" demanded Stretch, drifting forward. "The doc's been writin' about _us?_"

Viola looked at them in surprise. Forget about getting on their level, she thought, her heartbeat quickening. Slander gets them every time!

"Oh...only a little," she encouraged, grasping her hands behind her back. She frowned at Stretch. "Why, you must be Patient A..." She flashed the tall ghost a smile. "He said a _lot_ about _you_."

Stretch was horrified. "What?" he shrilled. "_What_ did he say?"

"Hmmm..." Viola was quite pleased with herself. "Well, I don't remember right off...but it's _all_ in his _brown_ notebook - " She broke off and waited expectantly.

"He said he was writin' about what he _learned_ from us, not _about_ us!" wailed Stinkie.

"Well _I_ for one want to see this notebook," growled Fatso.

"Yeah," said Stretch, his fury rising. "And _I_ know where he keeps it."

"I could show you all the good parts," offered Viola smugly, pleased. That last chapter was hers! Psychology, she decided, was easy.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Kat had seen the Wainwright estate before, while riding in the car with her dad, but she'd never been up close. Now, she could see all the gargoyles and things adorning the outside, and she guessed that the building may have been as old or even older than Whipstaff; only it, unlike Whipstaff, had been kept up over the years. Even Casper admitted that he'd never been real close to the estate before, preferring to visit the more suburban areas nearer the middle of town.

Wendy pulled a key out of her hat and opened the door, which was unlocked ("My uncle must be home after all," was the blonde girl's assumption) and led them into the front entry hall so she and Kat could hang their coats on the fancy hatstand located there.

"Let's go up to my room," suggested Wendy, then called out: "Uncle Peter, I'm home from school!"

"All right, love," a male voice drifted to them down the hall. "Nonono - that goes over there," the voice said, supposedly to someone else. There was a muffled clunking.

Kat frowned. "I thought you said only your uncle might be home," she said questioningly to Wendy. "Do you have servants?"

"No," answered Wendy, heading off down the hall towards the stairs. "Come on."

Kat and Casper glanced at eachother before following their new friend further into the house. Casper paused at the large entryway to the dining room and peered inside. He gasped in astonishment at what he saw.

"Kat! Kat!" he cried urgently, flying over to where to the two girls were about to ascend the stairs, "Come back and look at this!"

Wendy smiled and followed the other two back to the dining room.

Kat and Casper watched in wonder from their vantage point just outside the entryway. The dining room was crawling with household utensils, such as rags and dusters, but - everything was moving of its own accord, cleaning the room. On the table, a rag and a tube of grey paste polished the silverware.

"No wonder your house looks so new," whispered Kat to Wendy, keeping her voice low for fear of disturbing whatever spell was animating the utensils. She leaned a bit further into the room, not immediately noticing the man reading a newspaper and sitting in an armchair against the wall, the corner of which she was peeking around. Then Kat and the man noticed eachother out of the corners of their eyes, and turned their heads to look. They both yelled in surprise. The utensils, frightened, quickly shot off to hide in the kitchen, with the exception of a broom, which hung near the door as if uncertain what to do.

Kat stared in horror at the man, who returned her expression. It was that rotten lawyer Dibs! She was surprised to see him - alive, anyway.

"You!" she shrieked, lunging for Dibs, who threw his paper in the air and scrambled sideways out of the armchair in an attempt to escape the enraged teenager.

"Young lady - Kat, was it? - so nice to see you." Dibs scurried around the dining room table then to put some distance between himself and Kat, who was bent on throttling him with her bare hands. "How's the doctor?"

"You - you _scum!_" screeched Kat, chasing the frightened lawyer around the table. "I can't believe you survived - but we can fix that." She ran faster.

Casper and Wendy hung back in the doorway, a bit overwhelmed. Casper regained his mobility first and flew into the room to hover over Dibs.

"Do you know what you almost did?" Casper demanded of Dibs, who hardly glanced up at the ghost, so intent was he on defending himself with the napkin caddy. "If you had broken that vial, Dr. Harvey would have been a ghost forever!"

Dibs froze, confused. "Dr. Harvey? Was he a ghost too?"

"Yeah, and thanks to Casper, we used the Lazarus machine to bring him ba - Augh!" Kat screamed in surprise as she suddenly found herself being thrashed about the head with the bristle-end of the flying broomstick which had just joined the fray. "Get off!" Kat cried, covering her head with her arms. "Get away!"

At this Wendy finally rushed forward. "Broom! Stop it! _Bad Broom!_" she chided, trying to pull the broom away from Kat, who kept screaming.

"Broom, _heel_," commanded Dibs firmly, and at that, the broom immediately ceased its attack and lay down at the lawyer's feet like a trained hound.

Kat lowered her arms slowly and attempted to smooth down her disarrayed hair, picking out a few broomstraws. "Wow, thanks," she murmered breathlessly.

"Look, I really - " began Dibs.

"No, _you_ look," interrupted Kat, regaining her anger and glancing at Casper for approval. "Just...stay away from us, okay?"

Casper floated forward. "Kat - "

"No!" Kat looked at Wendy. "I'm sorry, Wendy. Let's - let's just go upstairs?" she pleaded.

"Okay." Wendy nodded. Kat left the dining room.

Casper stared after her, and glanced back. Dibs, looking uncomfortable, sank back into his chair. The little ghost felt bad - he was mad at Dibs too, but he couldn't bring himself to show anger to someone so...passive. "Um...See you later, Mr. Dibs," he told the lawyer before Wendy crossed the room to usher him after Kat.

"Wait," said Dibs quickly before either of them could leave. "What...What happened to Carrigan?" Frankly, he had been bursting to know for two months, and the opportunity to find out now was too tempting to pass up, no matter how much tension was involved. If that woman had jaunted off with his half of the treasure he'd -

"She crossed over," Casper answered, interrupting Dibs' train of thought swiftly. " - And there wasn't any treasure," the ghost added, as efficient as any mind-reader.

Dibs was silent as his niece and her friends went upstairs. If that Carrigan wasn't already dead, he knew he would have killed her himself right then. No treasure indeed - of course, he wasn't all that interested in any treasure anymore, but it's the principle of the thing.

"All right, all right - teatime's over," Dibs called to the cleaning utensils, which he knew had been peeking around the corner the whole time. "Get back in here and finish up before the mistresses of the house get home. Nonono - the _blue_ vase goes _there_...Bloody foreign feathermops."

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

"...Dad?"

"Hmm?"

Kat, wearing her nightshirt, walked into James' study,where the therapist was drafting up some new charts. "I'm going to bed now."

James looked up. "Goodnight, Bucket," he told her absently.

Kat hesitated, then walked over to sit in a chair next to her dad. "Do - do you think Wendy could come over sometime for dinner before we go?" she asked hopefully. She had regaled her father with the story of her day as soon as she had set foot inside the house late that afternoon.

"Well, of course she can, sweetheart," answered James, then, after a pause, he put down his t-square and turned to her. "You know, Kat, I'm really glad you made a friend like Wendy, but I don't want you to get too...well..."

"Attached?" supplied Kat.

"Well, yes."

Kat sighed. "It would be just my luck," she said, "to make the coolest friend ever just before I have to move. Well...at least Casper will have someone to hang out with."

James nodded.

"Uh...new charts, Dad?"

"Oh - yes. The guys were especially...hostile...this afternoon when I got home. I suspect they resent our leaving, although I'm sure they'd never admit it. How's Casper taking it lately?"

Kat shrugged. "Well...he'll be okay. Especially now, with Wendy." Then she shook her head. "God, I can't believe her aunt actually married that snake Dibs."

"I'm sure she had her reasons." James picked up an aluminum angle. "Why don't we drive out to Hughford Point tomorrow and - "

He was interrupted by three throats being cleared. James and Kat turned around to see the Trio, glaring down at them with their arms folded. Kat frowned - her dad wasn't kidding about the hostile thing. They looked livid.

"Good evening fellas," said James pleasantly. "Heading up to bed?"

"No," sneered Stretch, putting his face in James'. "_We're_ goin' _out_. And what are _you_ going to do about it?"

"Not a thing. Have a good time."

"Oh no you don't!" crowed Fatso. "We're wise to your psychobabble!"

"Yeah," agreed Stinkie. "You're sayin' that 'cause you don't _want_ us to have a good time!"

"Or he's sayin' that 'cause he _does_ want us to have a good time but he wants us to _think_ that he doesn't," reasoned Fatso.

"Nah," said Stretch, glaring even more fiercely at James, who looked at Kat helplessly, "he doesn't. He wants us to think that he wants us to think he does but doesn't really, that's all. So we're goin' out anyways, right boys?"

Stinkie and Fatso nodded emphatically.

"So where are you guys going?" queried Kat politely.

"Where we _goin'?_" repeated Stinkie haughtily.

"...Where _are_ we goin'?" asked Fatso. Both Stretch and Stinkie punched him in the arms.

"Who cares where we're goin'?" demanded Stretch. "The point is we're _goin_'. And we _don't_ know when we're comin' back."

"Yeah!" said Fatso and Stinkie in unison.

"We're the masters of our own afterlives!" announced Stretch importantly.

"Yeah!" repeated the other two. And with that all three of them rocketed off through the ceiling, the rafters creaking horribly at their going.

"Um...yeah," said Kat after the dust had settled. "Are you sure charts are going to be enough, Dad?"

"Not anymore. I'd better make some subliminal tapes, too."


	5. Chapter Five

_Chapter V_

Kat woke up the next morning, which was Saturday, to the sound of someone banging furiously on the front door. She grabbed up the clock and held it up to her face. It was just after six in the morning. She felt like she was about to cry - that Mayor was going to pay for this!

She rolled out of bed and, after yanking on a pair of jeans and some sneakers, grabbed up her ice hockey stick. She stormed downstairs and flung open the door.

"Hi Kat," said Wendy, out of breath.

"Wendy?" asked Kat in surprise, lowering the hockey stick. "What are you doing here...now?"

"I came to warn you." Wendy squeezed past the groggy Kat to stand in her rollerblades in the huge front room. "Can I come in?" she asked retroactively.

Kat was confused. "Warn? About what?"

"_That_," answered Wendy, pointing past Kat out the open door at the huge mob of angry people storming up the hill towards Whipstaff. Several of the people were carrying crudely-made picket signs saying things like "No More Ghosts" and "Get Out Harvey". A newsvan with the Channel 8 logo emblazoned on the side was weaving its way through the picketers, obviously intent on reaching the house first. The people at the front of the procession saw that the mansion's front door was open and began barrelling towards it, waving their signs and bellowing like Vikings storming the beach. Kat hurriedly slammed the door shut and bolted it.

"What happened?" she cried.

Wendy looked back at her friend and shrugged. "You got a TV?" she asked.

James and Casper came downstairs to find Kat and Wendy glued to the television set in the sitting-room, watching a live newscast on Channel 8.

James frowned at the girl he'd never seen before. "Wendy?"

Wendy nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Hi."

"Shh!" interrupted Kat, pointing at the screen.

On the news, a hyper-looking reporter with flyaway hair was indicating a huge mansion behind himself (it was definitely Whipstaff) with his thumb. "And here," he was saying, "is where Dr. James Harvey has been residing ever since late October of this year. Although it was known that he is a so-called 'therapist to the dead', he has been an unobtrusive member of the community - until last night, when nearly every citizen of Friendship phoned into the police station with frantic reports of...ghosts?"

The Harveys gaped at the TV.

"It was horrible," whimpered an elderly lady when a microphone was thrust into her face. "They broke all my Delftware and put my cat in the dryer."

The reporter hastily transferred the microphone from the old lady to a big burly man, who was carrying a rather splotchy sign which read, "I Hates Gosts". "It's all dat Harvey's fault," growled the man. "I say we run dat ghost-lovin' freak outta our fair city."

The crowd cheered.

"Casper," James said, turning to the small ghost at his side, "do you know anything about this?"

"No sir."

"Well I bet I know who does." Kat retrieved her hockey stick from the coffee table and ran with it to the couch. She climbed up on the couch and banged on the wall with the stick.

"Kat, what are you doing?" demanded Wendy in confusion.

Kat didn't answer. "Come on," she mumbled to herself, "Wake up." She paused in her efforts to pull aside the curtain and peek out. On the news, the camera zoomed in on her face as the reporter cried, "That, ladies and gentlemen, is Kathleen Harvey, reputed by several sources to be a sadist and worshipper of both death and evil in general!"

Kat released the curtain.

The Ghostly Trio sunk slowly through the ceiling. They looked exhausted.

"What the hell is goin' on down here, a monster truck rally?" Stretch snapped, rubbing his eyes.

"Naw, those are on Sundays," mumbled Fatso.

Kat sprang off of the couch and confronted all three of the ghosts, brandishing the hockey stick dangerously before herself. "What did you guys _do_ last night?" she demanded.

Fatso frowned, trying hard to remember. "Uh," he said, looking at Stinkie. "What _did_ we do last night?"

Stinkie couldn't remember either. "Was I supposed to take notes?"

"Who cares what we did last night?" broke in Stretch, irritated, and nearly fully awake now.

"_We_ do," answered Kat, waving her hockey stick in the general direction of the television set. "We're on the news. Everyone in town says they were _haunted_ last night."

The Trio blinked at the TV. On it was the reporter, interviewing three boys Kat's age.

"So," said the reporter, "when did you _first_ suspect Kathleen Harvey of sacrificing live human infants to various unnamable demons?"

"We never did," protested one of the two dark-haired boys, who was none other than Nicky Steubing.

"No way," agreed his brother Andreas.

"Kat's really pretty cool," added Vic, leaning on his bike. "She's kinda quiet at school, but - " here he shrugged - "we really like her."

"Yeah," said the twins.

Kat smiled at the TV.

"And so the mysterious hauntings last night go unexplained," went on the disappointed reporter, moving away from the boys, who tried to protest. "Is Dr. James Harvey, 'Ghost Therapist', really responsible for the rampant runnings of otherworldly spirits in Friendship, Maine? The general consensus seems to be: 'You bet your life he is.' I'm Jerry Gerard, Channel 8 News."

The Harveys, Casper, and Wendy all glared at the Trio.

"You think we did _that?_" said Stretch, pointing to the TV. "No chance. We weren't even anywhere _near_ this 'berg."

"Yeah?" said Kat, planting her hands on her hips. "Prove it."

The Trio stared at eachother in silence for a minute, then Fatso punched Stinkie on the shoulder saying, "I _told_ you we shoulda gotten one-a them souvenir mugs!"

Just then there was an insistant knocking on the side door, which connected directly with the sitting-room. Wendy rollerbladed to it and peeked through the peephole. "It's Vic and the Steubing twins," she announced.

"Oh, great," said Casper.

"Wait." Kat went to the door and opened it a crack.

"Hiya Kat," Vic greeted her, trying to be casual. The twins, behind him, waved.

"That was really nice, what you said to that reporter," said Kat, trying to fill as much of the crack she had opened with her body as possible. "Look, you guys gotta leave - "

A shout of "There's a door on the side!" followed by the sound of hundreds of stampeding feet, cut short their conversation. Seeing no other alternative, Kat grabbed Vic and yanked him inside, and did the same with the twins. She shut and bolted the door just in time as the mob reached it.

"Thanks Kat," breathed Andreas, then all three boys froze in shock at the sight of some of the other occupants of the sitting-room.

" - You guys, this is my dad," said Kat in an attempt to relieve some of the tension. "Dad, this is Vic, Nicky, and Andreas."

James couldn't bring himself to smile at this point. "Good morning, boys," he said flatly.

The boys nodded back mutely.

" - And this is Casper...and you know Wendy - "

"Hi," said Casper and Wendy together.

"And - " Kat turned to the Trio and was startled to silence by the looks of fury on their semi-transparent faces. They were even more angry now than they had been the previous night.

"You _dare_ to pin that news thing on us," Stretch stated rather than asked, looking around at everybody accusingly.

"Now guys, calm down," began James, attempting to gain control of the situation. "You're getting much too worked up - "

"What's the matter, Doc?" snarled Stinkie. "We too _infra dignitatem_ for you?"

"What?" said Casper.

"Dad!" gasped Kat. "Did you say that to them?"

James frowned. "Well, I _did_ write - " Then he froze. "Have you been reading my journal?" he demanded, beginning to lose his temper himself.

"Yeah," sneered Fatso. "What's it to you?"

"That's _private!_"

"You should have thought of that before you left the lousy thing in your lousy desk!" retorted Stretch.

"Don't forget," said Stinkie, "that it's really _our_ lousy desk."

"Yeah," Stretch said, remembering, "it is. And when the fleshies get kicked out, it will _all_ be ours again."

"Dad, the police are here," said Kat, daring to peek outside again.

"They're probably here to kick the doc out early," mused Fatso.

"Yeah..." pondered Stinkie. "Hey - maybe we _did_ haunt the town last night." He winked at the other two.

"Ohhh," said Stretch and Fatso. "Maybe we _did_."

"We shoulda thought of this before," concluded Stinkie proudly.

Kat was furious. "You know what your guys' problem is?" she demanded, marching up to the Trio.

"No," they chorused nastily.

"You're so..._inhuman_."

"When," growled Stretch to the girl, "are you gonna get it through that organic head of yours that we don't give a damn about bein' human! We're _glad_ we're not human! Come on, guys," he said to his companions, "let's blow this place."

"Where we goin'?" whispered Stinkie.

"...To that gal Viola's," Stretch whispered back. "_She_ understands us."

And with a loud whoosh, the three flew off through the back wall.

"Good _riddance!_" yelled Kat, just before the police pounded on the front door.

Having no other choice, James unbolted and opened the door. On the porch stood the Mayor and his two bodyguards, in addition to a woman in a smart pants suit, and a male police officer carrying a pair of handcuffs.

"Dr. James - " the woman in the suit began, then interrupted herself as the girls peeked around the therapist. " - Wendy!" she exclaimed instead. "Is _this_ where you disappeared to?"

Wendy nodded silently, then whispered to Kat, "It's my aunt Wynona. She's the Chief of Police."

"Ah," said Kat, who really wasn't all that surprised.

"...Dr. James Harvey," Chief Wainwright resumed, returning her attention to the matter at hand, "you are under arrest for disturbing the peace."

"Hey!" yelled Kat. James shushed her quickly.

"This is what all people who deviate from Form 12 deserve," said the first bodyguard. The second bodyguard nodded in agreement. They both prodded the Mayor.

"Can we go sky-diving after this?" asked the Mayor eagerly.

"Dr. Harvey, I assure you this is more for your own protection than anything else," said Chief Wainwright. "The handcuffs are to appease the crowd. We don't want them getting any more hostile than they already are."

"That's for sure," said Wendy.

James frowned. "But are you really arresting me?"

Chief Wainwright shook her head. "Not exactly. You _are_ being taken into custody, however. You will remain in my office at the station until it is declared safe for you to return to your home."

"By that time it won't be our home anymore. What about me?"

"You," Chief Wainwright told Kat, "have been appointed a temporary legal guardian. I must ask you to allow Officer Stevenson to cuff you now, Dr. Harvey."

James complied, and he (being led by Officer Stevenson) and Kat followed Chief Wainwright to the squad car car parked in the driveway. The crowd booed the Harveys' passing, but cheered when they got in the car.

When the Mayor and his bodyguards had entered the car, and the crowd had dispersed, Wendy and the boys - Casper included - huddled on the porch.

"This reeks," said Nicky. "Kat's dad didn't do anything."

"My aunt is really fair," Wendy reassured the others. "She'll take care of everything. I'd better go home though - I kinda snuck out this morning, and I'm probably in trouble."

Vic shrugged. "I _can't_ go home," he said. "I snuck out too."

Andreas smiled. "So did we," he added. "We're probably in big trouble. Our parents were really freaked out about those ghosts in our pantry last night."

"Oh, and you weren't," Vic sneered.

"Nah."

Wendy sighed. "Well, I'm sure I'm not in _that_ much trouble...You guys wanna come hang out at my house?"

Vic and the twins boggled. "_Your_ house?" exclaimed Andreas. There were all kinds of rumors floating around school about the mysterious Wainwright estate. Nothing compared to Whipstaff, of course, but bad enough.

"Hey, her house is pretty cool," interjected Casper, not really believing that he was in the midst of four kids who didn't scream in fear at the sight of him. Wendy smiled at the small ghost.

"...All right."

"Okay."

"Sure."


	6. Chapter Six

_Chapter VI_

"The _nerve_ of those fleshies," snarled Stretch. He was flying so furiously that the other two had to strain to keep up with him. "What right do they even _have_, conductin' their worthless lives on _our_ property?"

"But Stretch," piped up Stinkie, "You said they were stayin' there 'cause _we_ let 'em."

Fatso was confused. "Er...don't we?"

"No." Stretch angled his descent towards the widow Laslowe's mansion. "We just never bothered kickin' them out. There's a difference."

Stinkie and Fatso glanced at eachother wordlessly and followed their self-appointed leader.

Stretch ignored the passers-by who noticed the three ghosts and ran bellowing down the street. He eyed the doorbell buzzer for a moment, then decided to forget it and let himself in by floating right through the heavy door.

"Quiet," Stretch hissed, holding Stinkie and Fatso, who had followed him in, back in the hallway. "Listen."

They listened. They were sure they heard, muffled by the walls, the sound of a crowd cheering. It didn't sound like a television set.

"Maybe they _do_ hold monster truck rallies on Saturdays," marvelled Fatso.

"Come on." Stretch led the others through first one wall, then another, then finally through the ceiling in pursuit of the source of the sound. Finally they found it: a sizable gathering of ghosts in the mansion's library.

"Wouldja lookit that," whispered Stinkie.

"What are _they_ all doin' here?" demanded Fatso.

Stretch frowned. "There's the monster truck now." He directed the other two's attention from the crowd to the woman standing behind the podium at the front of the library.

"Hey, it's Viola!" Stinkie exclaimed in surprise. "What's she think she's doin'?"

"Shh!" warned Fatso.

"Quiet! Quiet, please!" Viola raised both arms and lowered them, palms downward, like a kindergarten teacher. Surprisingly enough, it worked, and her ghostly audience fell silent.

"Last night went very well," the widow began, stepping over Pavlov and its puddle of drool to stand to the side of the podium. "Your...uh - " here she glanced hastily at the notes she had ready on the podium, " - Your feelings of anxiety have been sucessfully vented towards those - uh - those who have caused you pain: the living!"

"End Your Strife - Down With Life!" chanted the collection of ghosts enthusiastically.

"This is nuts," mumbled Stretch.

"The living hate you!" went on Viola vehemently. "They hire exorcists to destroy that which they do not understand! All ghosts want is peace!"

The ghosts cheered again.

"Didn't the doc say that?" said Stinkie with a frown. "That ghosts want peace?"

"He also said we have a lot of anxiety," Fatso pointed out.

Stretch was catching on. "I'll bet that's why she wanted to see the doc's journal!"

"So she could twist his words?" gasped Stinkie.

"She can't do that to the doc!" cried Fatso.

Viola glanced at her notes, then stood in front of the podium. "The living must be taught a lesson!" she announced. "They must be driven out of Friendship!"

"What's Friendship gotta do with it?" said Fatso loudly, flying out inot the middle of the room.

"Yeah," agreed a short ghost from the back. "Who cares about one town?"

"Wait - " said Viola, but was drowned out by Stinkie, who popped up right in front of her.

"Why are you guys listening to _her_, anyways?" he demanded of the crowd.

"Yeah, she's just a mummified old fleshie," agreed Stretch from the ceiling. Viola gasped in horror.

"He's right," said a female ghost dressed like a flapper. "Let's get out of this big mothball!"

"Wait, _stop!_" Viola cried too late as her audience flew off through the walls, ceiling, and floor. "I'm not done brainwashing - I mean...Come _back!_"

The Trio regrouped and glared at Viola angrily. "So - it was all _your_ fault," snapped Stretch at the widow, who looked back at him uneasily. "You know - _we_ got blamed for all that stuff you pulled with your flunkies last night."

"Oh...Really?" Viola backed into her podium and scrambled around it, nearly stumbling over Pavlov, who only twitched.

"So why do you want alla fleshies run outta town, anyways?" Stinkie wanted to know.

"Don't you get it?" responded Fatso. "Viola here is an evil depotic dictator who wants to take over not just Friendship, but all of Maine!"

Stretch hit the big ghost over the head with a book. "All right, all right, listen here." He leaned over Viola threateningly. "Because of you, Doc Harvey has been thrown in the big house. So what are _you_ gonna do about it?"

Viola gaped back at him. Dr. Harvey was in jail? So he wouldn't be able to talk her 'patients' out of complying with her plans (that is, if she could get them back)? Marvellous! It couldn't be more perfect. She beamed at Stretch, then quickly whipped up a guilty expression.

"Oh, I feel so _awful!_" she crooned. "This is _all_ my fault!"

"_This is all_ - er." Stretch frowned. "Uh, yeah."

"You twisted the doc's words!" argued Fatso.

Viola walked past the ghosts to head for the stairs. "You are so right," she answered, the Trio following her to the first floor. "_What_ was I thinking?" She opened the secret passageway.

"Uh huh." Stretch glanced in confusion at his two companions, who just shrugged back. Why was Viola agreeing with them like that? It was almost as if she was using some of Dr. Harvey's 'reverse psychology' or whatever he called it.

"I simply _must_ make it up to you fellows," Viola went on, leading the Trio through the secret door and to her workroom. "Name anything - go on."

The Ghostly Trio allowed themselves to be herded inside the incomplete chalk circle drawn on the cement floor. "Well, I dunno," said Stretch skeptically. "It's gonna have to be a pretty big favor."

"Oh, of course," enthused Viola, getting on her hands and knees. She pulled a piece of chalk from the sash tied around her waist and used it to draw in the missing part of the circle. "...But then again, why should I do a favor for a bunch of deadbeats like you?"

The Trio were startled by Viola's sudden nasty tone of voice. "Look, you - " snarled Stretch, flying forward and smacking into an invisible wall that rose out of the chalk line in a cylinder and surrounded the ghosts. "Hey!" he yelled, as all three of them began trying to feel for an opening out of their prison.

"You dared to interrupt my session," Viola growled, standing up and tossing the piece of chalk away. "I had those ghosts eating out of the palm of my hand!"

"Using the doc's notes!" Fatso reminded her angrily.

"What's goin' on? Let us outta here!" wailed Stinkie.

"Forget it, Bucky!" Viola crowed, walking over to her mirror. She lifted the amulet off of its corner and held it reverently "They said I couldn't _be_ a witch," she rambled to herself, putting the amulet on. "They said I didn't have enough Astral power, well - " here she paused and turned to look at the three confused ghosts haughtily " - Now I _will!_"

Stretch eyed the widow suspiciously. "What...What does _that_ do?" he said, pointing to the amulet, which had begun to glow faintly.

"You're about to find out," snarled Viola.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

"It's about time," James mumbled under his breath as Officer Stevenson unlocked and removed his handcuffs. James and Kat sat at the private office's table as indicated by Chief Wainwright, who also took a seat. When Officer Stevenson had closed the door behind him, Kat ventured to speak:

"So now what's going to happen to us?"

Chief Wainwright took a deep breath and folded her hands in front of her. "Your father is going to have to remain here, in my office, but, as for you..." the Chief glanced at the door expectantly, "...your temporary guardian should be here any moment." She glared at the door. As if prompted, it flew open.

Dibs stumbled in, strewing papers everywhere. "Terribly sorry," he said. "Am I late?"

Kat was infuriated. "_Him?_" she demanded, jumping up and jabbing a finger at Wendy's uncle.

"It's only a formality," Chief Wainwright assured her.

"Look," muttered Dibs to Kat, crawling around to gather his papers, "you can say whatever you want about me, but it isn't going to change anything now, is it?"

Kat had to shake her head.

Chief Wainwright got up. "We thought it would be easier on you if you could stay at our house, with Wendy to keep you company."

Kat sighed. "...Okay."

The Chief motioned to Kat, and the girl walked over to her. "Come on," she said, "let's get this all worked out." She and Kat left the room.

Dibs stacked his papers on the table and sat down across from James. "My sister-in-law thinks it is a possibility that you may be sued by the City," the lawyer began.

James wasn't surprised. "Swell," he mumbled.

"So in advance, I'm offering to defend you."

Now James _was_ surprised. "I couldn't pay you - "

Dibs held up a hand. "We'll just call it a favor."

"Well, I didn't have anything to do with it - "

"I know that," Dibs interrupted the therapist again.

"How?"

"I'll tell you how." Dibs glanced around, then leaned forward. "My wife is a witch," he whispered.

James arced an eyebrow. "Does your wife _know_ you talk about her like that behind her back?"

"No, no." Dibs shook his head. "My wife really _is_ a witch. You know: Hocus Pocus, I'll get you my pretty, all that."

"You're joking."

"No. They're _all_ witches, the lot of them. Even the kid. I'm the only one in the house who doesn't know how many eyes of newt go into a basic love potion."

"...Witches."

"Yes."

James rubbed his eyes. "Well, that's it for me," he muttered, pulling the coffeepot towards him. "How I've lasted this long already without caffeine is beyond me. Do you want something? There's tea here."

"Tea?" Dibs made a face. "I abhor tea. Why do you think I left England? The whole place is _full_ of the stuff. Disgusting. Pass the coffee."

The door opened and Chief Wainwright entered, followed by Miss Wainwright from the bank, and another woman James recognized as Dr. Wainwright of Friendship General.

"Well." Dibs put down the coffeepot, which he hadn't yet gotten to use. "I'll be going." He paused by James' chair on the way out. "If they tell you you're under some sort of terrible curse or something, _don't_ believe them. They think they're funny." Upon dispensing that sage advice, he left.

The Wainwright sisters sat at the table, but only after the Chief of Police had locked and secured the door.

Bank President Wainwright began. "Dr. Harvey, we know who is responsible for the hauntings last night."

"Miss Wainwright, I never - "

James trailed off, and President Wainwright began again. "Call me Wysteria," she told the therapist, "and we know it wasn't you."

"Because you're witches?"

The sisters stole an amused glance at oneanother.

"What has Peter been telling you about us?" asked Dr. Wainwright smoothy.

James leaned back. "Don't tell me you're _not_ witches, Dr. Wainwright," he warned her.

Dr. Wainwright laughed. "It's Wilhelmina - Mina...Goodness, you won't be able to keep us straight with that Wainwright stuff. And this is Wynona," she introduced the Chief of Police. "And yes - we're witches. I was just afraid he'd told you something embarassing."

Wynona leaned forward. "Dr. Harvey, are you familiar with Viola Laslowe?"

James nodded. "Yes, she was a patient of mine until very recently...Why?"

The therapist concluded from the grave look he received from the three sisters that the explaination he was about to get was going to be a long one indeed.


	7. Chapter Seven

_Chapter VII_

"Thanks for doing this, Mr. Dibs," Kat said quietly as the minivan pulled up in the Wainwrights' long driveway. "I guess I shouldn't be so mad at you."

"Never mind." Dibs shut off the ignition. "We'll discuss it later. It looks like Wendy's here," he added, nodding to Wendy's snow-crusted rollerblades situated by the front door, along with the three bicycles belonging to Vic and the twins.

When they got inside, Dibs headed for his office to get some paperwork done, and Kat followed the sound of teenage voices up to the third floor, where she found Wendy and the boys in the sunroom. They greeted her and she say down on the rug.

"So how long do you think they'll keep him at the station?" Casper asked Kat after she had explained the situation to them.

Kat shrugged and picked at the rug. "I don't know," she said truthfully. She looked around herself at the décor. The room was completely round. Most of the ceiling was an enormous domed window which let in the winter sun, and the walls were covered with elegantly embroidered tapestries depicting various scenes, some of which were rather strange to say the least. The large area rug they were sitting on was woven to look like the night sky, which Kat imagined looked creepy when the real stars shone through the dome above.

"Is this room..._used_ for anything?" Andreas asked Wendy curiously.

"Uh," said Wendy, glancing at Kat and Casper, who could only shrug back. At this point it would probably be okay to tell the boys that she and her aunts were witches, but Wendy preferred to keep mum about it for now. "It's just...a room."

"Oh." Andreas looked back at the tapestry that covered the doorway they came in by. The tapestry had a picture of the hallway outside embroidered on it. Then he looked around at the other tapestries: rolling countrysides, jagged cliffsides, a mad scientist's lab, the inside of a freaky cave...He decided not to look anymore, and instead focused his attention on the back of his hand.

Kat scooted over next to Wendy. "Are you going to tell them?" she hissed.

"I don't know," Wendy shrugged. "I probably shouldn't. At least not right away. I've just...never had any friends who didn't already know before. I don't know what to do."

On the other side of the rug, another whispered conversation was taking place.

"So - don't you guys think this place is cool?" whispered Casper.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool," answered Vic. "I don't get it, but it's cool."

"I think it's weird," put in Andreas.

"_That's_ what makes it cool," said Nicky. "We should have tried to be friends with Wendy a long time ago."

"Kat too." Vic sighed. "Casper," he said to the ghost, "you know Kat really well, right? Well, does she hate me for what I did to her at the dance? I mean, standing her up?"

"Not really." Casper frowned. "I mean, she was for a while, but...then she just thought you were kinda...well, flaky."

Vic was relieved. He was expecting a lot worse. "I'd better say something to her," he whispered, then scooted a little in Kat's direction. The two girls stopped whispering to look at him.

"Hi," Vic said. "Look, Kat, about what happened on Halloween - "

At that moment, the tapestry that depicted the mad scientist's lab was flung aside to make way for Viola, who marched into the round sunroom engrossed in a large maroon tome. Pavlov drooled its way along behind her.

The teenagers jumped to their feet, and Casper floated higher.

"Hey!" yelled Wendy. "That's one of my aunts' spellbooks!"

"Spellbook?" Nicky hissed to Andreas.

"Yes, and there's some _wonderful_ recipes in here." Viola flipped the pages casually. "Did you know there are five newt's eyes in a typical love potion? What do you do with the leftover eye, I wonder?"

"Calamity Cocktail," Wendy suggested without thinking.

Casper flew over to Viola and grabbed one end of the book. "Let go!" he yelled. "Get your own spellbook!"

"That _was_ the plan, dear." Viola cradled the book in the crook of her left arm and grabbed Casper's wrist with her right hand. "Don't mess with me, you little floating brat. There are plenty of spells in here that deal with banishing ghosts."

Casper tried to pull away, but to his amazement, he could not. "Hey!" he cried in surprise, tugging with all his might.

"How is she doing that?" gaped Kat.

"She _can't_ be," answered Wendy. "You'd have to be able to...to tap into the Astral Plane, like us. Mrs. Laslowe's not a witch!"

"Witch?" Andreas hissed to Nicky.

"I _am_ a witch now!" crowed Viola triumphantly. "Thanks to this!" In response, the glowing amulet she wore pulsated with a small explosion of light.

"That's the amulet that turned up missing from our study years ago, isn't it?" wailed Wendy. "_You_ stole it?"

"It's not the only thing."

"_You_ caused those hauntings last night, didn't you? It wasn't my uncles at all!"

Viola grinned at Casper, who was still struggling in her grip. "You're very bright, for someone whose brain decomposed years ago," she said. "And as for those rude uncles of yours, don't expect to ever see _them_ again."

"What do you mean?"

Viola nodded toward her amulet. "Let's just say I took what I wanted and threw the rest in the trash. Now it's time for _you_ to say goodbye," she told the horrified little ghost, then flung him at and through a tapestry. It was the room's oddest tapestry, with a purple landscape and a bright yellow sky. Kat waited for her friend to come flying back into the room, but he didn't. She surmised by the expression on Wendy's face that she shouldn't expect him to. Angrily, she stepped towards the widow.

"You have no right to do this!" she shouted.

"Kat Harvey, isn't it?" Viola smiled at the furious teen. "Why, you're that nice doctor's daughter, aren't you?"

Pavlov yapped enthusiastically, spewing saliva in a wide arc.

Viola sneered. "Well, I think I've found the perfect spell for you, _Kat_." The widow found the page quickly; obviously she had been in the lab for quite some time. "_Gyf wonit phod eranum_ - " she read, her arm outstretched towards Kat.

"Kat!" yelled Vic, "what's going on?"

" - _quaj killian borok_ - "

Dibs entered from behind the hallway tapestry. "What's all the shouting - " He gasped at Viola, who was still holding the book and pointing to Kat, only now some blue threads, like electricity, were creeping along the widow's arm as the magic gained in intensity. He knew a spell when he saw it, and he didn't like the looks of this one at all.

"Uncle Peter?" said Wendy helplessly from where she stood next to the tapestry Casper had disappeared through.

Thinking quickly (or rather, not thinking at all), Dibs lunged forward and grabbed Kat to pull her away, but it was too late: Viola had completed her spell, and she threw it.

However, her aim was not really very good. There was a brief flash of orange light.

Dibs, now a mousy brown alley cat, miaowed in confusion near Kat's feet.

"..._Uncle Peter?_" Wendy repeated, a bit more conviction in her voice this time.

"Drat!" complained Viola. "Oh well. You can't always be a witch. Pavlov, playtime!"

Pavlov was all too glad to comply. It yapped furiously and launched itself after the transformed lawyer. Dibs yowled and leapt onto the tapestry Casper had gone through and clung there, bristling. Pavlov barked while Viola laughed.

"You turn him back!" Wendy demanded.

"Not a chance!"

Pavlov seized the bottom edge of the tapestry in its small mouth and tugged. The tapestry came down with a ripping noise, sending Dibs careening to the other side of the chamber. Where the tapestry used to be there now was an opening leading to a land exactly like the one in the picture. The rope that had held the tapestry fell to the floor.

Vic and the twins unsuccessfully tried to grab Pavlov as it ran past, but the little dog was just too fast. Finally Dibs escaped underneath the hallway tapestry.

"That's enough, Pavlov!" commanded Viola, and the dog reluctantly teturned to its mistress. "And that's enough from you, too!" She pointed at Wendy, and the girl was blown, screaming, into the purple and yellow land. She dropped out of sight.

"Don't want any little witches around," smirked Viola, closing the spellbook. "And don't any of you brats even _think_ about following me - I'll turn the lot of you into small crawly things." And with that, she and Pavlov re-entered the doorway hidden under the lab tapestry.

"What should we do?" moaned Andreas.

"You guys wait here," Kat answered him. "I'm going in after Casper and Wendy. If I'm not right back, worry." She leapt into the purple and yellow opening and disappeared.

Vic sat heavily on the carpet. "This is insane," he muttered aloud.

"No kidding," said Nicky.

"How long should we wait?" Andreas wanted to know.

Vic shook his head. "I don't know," he said, "but if this day gets any weirder, I think Kat's dad is going to have a new client."

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

"I see." James leaned back in his chair.

"Was that too confusing for you?" Mina wanted to know.

"Oh no, not at all," answered the therapist tiredly. "But I don't understand what use _I_ could possibly be to you."

Wysteria frowned. "How could you ask that? You're the only ghost psychologist we know of. Viola Laslowe is controlling those ghosts somehow, and we need you to dissuade them if they attack again."

Before James could protest further, Broom appeared at the window. It tapped impatiently on the glass.

"What on Earth?" Wynona jumped up and slid the window open, admitting Broom, to whose bristles was clinging a brown cat. The cat immediately tumbled down onto the desk, weaving a bit. It miaowed miserably.

"Peter!" exclaimed Mina, taken aback. "Has Wendy been experimenting on you again?"

The cat, recovering from his mild air-sickness, yowled angrily and lashed his tail.

"Well for heaven's sake, don't yell at me," replied Mina sourly. "Who was it, then?"

Dibs miaowed, his tail twitching.

Wysteria knitted her thin brows together. "You expect us to understand that?" she demanded.

"Slow down," agreed Wynona.

Broom zoomed around the room, making circles near the ceiling.

James' jaw fell slack.

Dibs miaowed again.

Mina gasped. "Well, are the children all right?"

"What's going on?" James ventered to ask.

Dibs lowered his head and made a small noise, deep in his throat.

"Well thank goodness," sighed Wysteria.

"Come on," said Wynona, opening the door. "Viola's gotten into our private study, and the girls are still there."

Dibs miaowed timidy.

"_What_ boys?" demanded Mina icily.

"_Never mind_," Wynona insisted. "Let's go. We'll take a squad car. Broom," she called to the ceiling, "fly on home, but try not to let anyone see you." The broomstick zipped obediantly out the window.

"Um," said James as they all headed for the door. "Can't we just..._beam_ there or something?"

Wysteria gave him a trite look. "What do you think this is?" she asked him. "A fairy tale?"

Dibs leapt off of the table and miaowed plaintively at Mina's feet.

"No," Mina told her husband. "I _won't_ turn you back. You'll be...safer this way."

Dibs howled unhappily.

"Let's _go_," hissed Wynona. Everyone, the transformed lawyer included, followed the Chief of Police out to the parking lot.


	8. Chapter Eight

_Chapter VIII_

Kat cupped her hands around her mouth. "_Caaaasper!_" she called. "_Wendy!_"

"Kat?"

Kat looked around anxiously. Casper emerged from behind a magenta shrub.

"Casper!" cried Kat in relief. "I thought you were gone."

"I am, I think." Casper surveyed their surroundings. "Where's the opening we came through?" he wanted to know.

Kat pointed to a spot on top of a flourescent green rock. "I'm sure we came through somewhere up there," she said, "but there's nothing there now."

"So how are we supposed to get back?"

Kat shrugged wearily. "Sorry, I don't have a comm-badge."

"_Now_ I'm glad Aunt Teri wouldn't let me decorate my room like Pandemonium," commented Wendy, wandering out of a pink fog. "It _does_ get kinda annoying...real fast."

"Wendy?" said Casper, forgoing all happy reunions. "How do we get out of here?"

Now it was Wendy's turn to shrug. "I don't know if we can," she answered. "My aunts never let me go with them to the Outer Planes before."

"Well we'd better stay in this area then," suggested Kat. "I _know_ we came through around here - Maybe...maybe a hole will open or something."

There was a muffled roar in the distance.

"Uh oh," said Casper, who really didn't want to know what had been angry enough to make that noise.

"Can we hide?" hissed Kat.

"Where?" was Wendy's question. They looked around. There was Casper's shrub, the green rock, and that was it. The clearing was surrounded by pink fog - and who knew what was in that.

As if to prove that point, the roar repeated itself. The three friends looked at eachother. They knew what had to be done.

They ran into the fog.

"Keep close," warned Casper, and took Kat's hand. Kat took Wendy's hand, and they slowed their pace as the fog become too dense to see more than five feet in any direction. The fog actually seemed to recede, making a path and allowing them to pass.

"Weird," murmered Kat, letting go of Casper and reaching out to touch the retreating fog. She succeeded in procuring a handful of the stuff, which was actually rather solid, like non-sticky cotton candy. Absently, she put it in a back pocket of her jeans.

"You guys, this is really freaky," said Wendy shakily, gripping Kat's hnd. "Hey - listen."

They stopped and listened. From directly ahead of them they could hear the sound of hurried footfalls. Someone was running right for them.

There was nothing they could do but stand still and hope it wasn't some horrible Outer Planes monster. A shape materiallized out of the fog and barrelled right into Kat, who lost her hold on Wendy's hand and fell, screaming, to the purple grass. The shape, a human man dressed in a Yankee Civil War uniform and carrying a bayonet (which luckily he hadn't been holding in front of him), yelled back and rolled off of the girl - managing to somehow cause his oversized hat to slip over his eyes. Blinded, he feebly thrust the wrong end of the bayonet at the air around him. "Stay back!" he warned. "I have a weapon!"

Casper and Wendy helped Kat up. "Who's _that?_" Wendy whispered curiously.

Casper frowned. Then he sniffed.

"_Uncle Stinkie?_" he remarked in shock.

Wendy blinked. "'Stinkie'?" she repeated in disbelief.

The soldier dropped the bayonet and pulled the hat off of his head (it took both hands) and blinked up at the friends through a shock of wild blond hair. "Casper?"

Kat gasped as she and Wendy helped Stinkie up (his whole uniform seemed too big for him). "Did Mrs. Laslowe do this to you?"

"Yeah." Stinkie put his hat back on and rested the barrel of his bayonet on one shoulder. "Then she pushed us through some mirror, and we wound up here." The former ghost looked nervously back the way he had come. "I think we got seperated when that thing started chasing us.

"Kat swallowed. "'Thing'?"

"What thing?" demanded Wendy.

"_That_ thing," clarified Casper as another roar echoed through the fog.

"Let me guess," said Stinkie slowly. "There's no way outta here, right?"

Before anyone could answer him, a new sound came echoing through the dense pink haze. "Hurry hurry hurry!" shouted a megaphone-enhanced baritone. "Step right up and see the - "

"Will you gimme that?" snapped another voice in irritation. Then the second voice boomed over the megaphone: "Stinkie! Yo, Stinkie, where the hell are ya?"

"Ssst! Hey!" Stinkie hissed into the fog. "Are you guys sure you wanna be makin' all that noise?"

Kat stepped towards the voices. "We're over here, guys - keep it down!" she said in a low whisper. "We wouldn't want any _more_ company - " She cut herself off at a gutteral rumble that seemed to roll over the very landscape.

Two figures, one fat and one tall, hurried out of the fog to join the others. "Man, wouldja lookit this place," marvelled Stretch, pushing back the brim of his black felt Stetson. "It looks like a carnival exploded."

Kat gasped.

"Gimmee back my bullhorn," growled Fatso, snatching his property out of Stretch's gloved hand. "And I'd like to point out that I've seen a hundred carnivals, and _never_ has one exploded. At least - " he added as an afterthought - "not before Tax Day."

"Wow," said Wendy. "A real carnie hustler."

"Hey hey hey," protested Fatso. "I have never hustled in my life."

"That's for sure," agreed Stinkie.

Kat was still gaping. "_You_ were a cowboy?" she asked Stretch in awe.

"Huh?" Stretch lookd down at his wardrobe, almost as if he had never seen it before. "Oh - Nah. I was a piano player."

"Then why are you _dressed_ like a cowboy?"

"You kiddin'? You _gotta_ dress like this - or you'll get shot."

"Hey Stretch," said Stinkie, stepping up beside his two companions, "How'd you die?"

Stretch thought hard, trying to remember. Then it came to him, and he frowned. "I - " he began, " - I got...shot." There was a moment of horrified silence, then suddenly Stretch broke out laughing, soon joined by his two buddies. "I _knew_ I shouldn't have asked the guy in the black mask for a tip!" the tall man added, greatly amused by his own demise.

Casper rolled his eyes.

"Well, come on you guys - We'd better get moving. I have a feeling it isn't particularly safe to stay in one place for very long around here." Kat motioned the others to follow her into the fog.

Something very, very close by snarled viciously.

Properly persuaded, the group huddled together and ran in a random direction, since it was impossible to tell just were the Thing was in relation to them due to its echoing voice.

Pretty soon they were stumbling right back into the clearing where Kat, Wendy, and Casper had originally begun.

"We've gone in a big circle!" Wendy cried in frustration. "I'm really beginning to hate this place."

"Not as much as you're _going_ to," commented Casper, pointing to the horriffic Outer Planes beast crouched on the flourescent green rock. The monster was simply indescribable - especially since it kept shifting its shape, number of limbs, and saliva color.

The Trio yelled and clutched eachother in fright.

"Okay, Wendy," hissed Kat. "You're the resident expert on weird. What should we do?"

"Uhhh...I think this one is beyond me."

"Quick - shoot it Stretch, shoot it!" Stinkie cried urgently, shaking the tall ex-ghost my the shoulders.

Stretch hit Stinkie with his hat. "I _can't_, stupid - I never carry loaded guns."

"Why not?"

"...Dangerous."

Stinkie rolled his eyes. "Oh sure!" he argued. "You're probably just sayin' that 'cause you got lousy aim!"

Stretch widened his violet eyes in offense. "Hey!" he yelled. "My aim is terriffic!"

"Yeah? I seen you at the Disneyworld shootin' gallery. You _stink!_"

"You should talk, you - "

Fatso stepped in between them. "_You_ shoot it," he blurted at Stinkie. "Your gun's bigger anyhow."

"Uh - right." Stinkie dropped his bayonet and began digging through his pockets. "I'm pretty sure I've got some shot somewhere...Give me a minute."

"I don't think we have that long!" cried Kat, as the beast sprang off the rock with fangs - er, beak - bared. It pounced, and everyone scattered - everyone that is, but Stinkie, who was still searching and didn't notice the commotion.

"Stinkie, look _out!_" cried Kat urgently from behind the magenta shrub.

Stinkie frowned as he pulled a greasy paper-wrapped bundle from his pocket. "What in the hell - " He unwrapped it and brightened. "Hey, wow - a garlic sandwich!" he exclaimed. "I forgot I had this."

"Well, _that_ clears up a mystery," grumbled Stretch.

"...Get out of the _way!_" Kat persisted.

"Huh?" Stinkie looked up in confusion as the Outer Planes beast bore down on him, chartreuse drool oozing its way between open jaws. Before he could move, the monster had him pinned flat on his back.

"Oh no you don't!" cried Stretch. He and Fatso burst out from behind the shrub and ran to help their fallen comrade. The others watched in horror.

Stinkie flung his arms over his eyes as the monster reared forward, licking its mandibles hungrily. It inhaled in order to roar, and in doing so got a healthy sniff of the garlic sandwich, which Stinkie still had a firm grasp on.

The Outer Planes beast fainted dead away.

"I don't believe it," muttered Kat as Stretch and Fatso hauled the unconcious monster off of Stinkie, who lay frozen with his eyes covered.

"Uh oh, look out," warned Casper, pointing to the top of the green rock. A white light flashed there, the kind that is produced when you aim a mirror into the sun. Seeing it, Stretch and Fatso picked up Stinkie's rigid form and hurried away from the rock with it.

The flickering stopped, and become a bright ring with a dark center, which widened far enough to let through...

"Vic!" cried Kat, who was becoming more and more confused.

"Oh no, Vic, don't!" Wendy rushed forward. "You'll be trapped too!"

Vic grinned and shook his head. "No I won't - Look, a lifeline." He wiggled the tapestry rope, one end of which was tied around his waist, the other end disappearing through the dark portal, which had shrunk around it. "The twins are at the other end. Come on - What's that?" he demanded, pointing to the feebly twitching Outer Planes beast.

"Nothing." Kat began the scramble up the slippery green rock. "You look _real_ good right now, Vic...Help me up."


	9. Chapter Nine

_Chapter IX_

"Let's see...Mr. Crear at the pet store, the postman, Mother, that lady in the Neighborhood Watch who didn't return the Tupperware she borrowed..." Viola was compiling her 'Who To Incinerate In a Wave of Deadly Energy First' list, and she was enjoying it immensely. "Let's see, who else...Ah, I'll just put down 'Everybody'. There. Finished." She beamed proudly at her accomplishment.

Pavlov suddenly sprang to its pudgy legs and began yapping at the door to the Dome Room, emitting saliva-bubbles in the process.

Viola didn't look away from her list. "What is it, Pookie," she asked in a distracted way. "Need to go walkies?"

Pavlov barked some more, its tail wagging itself into a blur.

"Well, in a minute - Mummy's gloating."

Disappointed, Pavlov flopped itself back down onto the floor, and in a few seconds had forgotten what had stirred it in the first place.

Outside in the Dome Room, a sizable gathering was taking place. Kat, Wendy, Casper and the Trio had been hauled out of Pandemonium by Vic and the twins moments before James and the Wainwrights (not to mention Dibs the cat) had arrived to investigate. The ever-curious Broom had joined them and now all they needed was...a plan.

Wysteria had examined the Trio through a pair of spectacles she pulled from her blouse pocket and declared that they were not alive but only Material; that Viola had merely siphoned off their Astral energy and was using it in the way witches do - as magic - thanks to the stolen amulet she wore. Casper was disappointed at this, naturally, but the Trio were much relieved that they didn't have to die again in order to return to being ghosts, a state which they really preferred.

"Even limited to the energy of only three ghosts, Viola is going to be a tough opponant - considering that she has had free access to all our spells for at least two hours now." Mina frowned and paced around the Dome Room, Broom dutifully trailing after her a few feet behind. "After all, it _was_ enough energy to use the Mirror of Hiird to get to our workroom in the first place."

The Trio were too disconsolate at being stuck in human form to even be impressed at the magnitude of their own latent - though stolen - energies.

"So what do we _do?_" asked Kat.

Andreas dug his hands into his pockets. "Well - Can we steal the energy back?" he asked doubtfully.

Wynona shook her head. "We'd need the amulet for that, and Viola's got it."

"Can we get the amulet away from her?"

"It would be highly dangerous," Mina asnwered James quickly. "No one could get that close."

Casper offered to go invisible and try, but he was instantly told by the sisters that that amulet would make Viola highly sensitive to his energy and not only would know he was there, but take his energy if she wanted - although she hadn't last time she had the chance. Apparently, the widow's actions would be difficult to predict.

"Well what are we doin' standing around this creepshow for?" Stretch suddenly demanded, losing all patience. He coiled up the tapestry rope he had helped untie from Vic's waist (Nicky had knotted it a little too tight). "I'm goin' in there to get my energy back. I'd like to see that fossilized old fleshie try somethin'." And before anyone could stop them, the Trio had marched into the Lab. Quickly and wordlessly, everyone followed.

Viola looked up from her busy task of nail-filing. "Can't you see I'm busy?" she drawled. "I have to maintain my otherworldly beauty, you know."

"Beauty?" snorted Fatso. "You might want to try applyin' that file to your face, then. It'd be a big help."

Viola drew back in some alarm. "Well!" she retorted. "Look who got up on the wrong side of the esophogus today."

Mina stepped forward. "Viola Laslowe, you have never been and never will be a true witch," she said.

"Why not?" snapped Viola, slapping her nail file on a table. "I lived with Charles for seventeen years! I had to listen to his stories about Witch's Balls and having brooms rebristled and and and...and the proper maintenance of a cauldron! _I_ know what I'm doing!"

James stepped forward. "Mrs. Laslowe," he said firmly, "as your therapist, I demand to know why you neglected to inform me of the vastly pertinent fact that your husband was a witch!"

Viola leered at him. "Well, who's the witch now?" she chirped, then turned to look at Pavlov. The little dog was snoring in the corner in a sizable pool of saliva. "Oh, Pavlov!" she singsonged, "time for walkies!" And she shot a beam of energy at the little dog, which disappeared with a yelp in a flash of pink light.

"Uh oh," remarked Wynona.

"Uh oh?" parroted James in concern. "Why uh oh?"

The pink light vanished. In Pavlov's place now stood an eighteen-foot tall monster canine. Drool hung from its jaws in thick foamy ropes.

"Uh oh," said the Trio.

Pavlov stepped forward, sniffing eagerly. Everyone edged backwards away from it. Its dinner-plate-sized rheumy eyes drifted over all the assembled faces before resting on the form of Dibs, trying to unobtrusively sneak towards the Dome Room exit. With an excited yowl, the creature launched itself at the cat.

Mina raised her arm, fingertips glowing, to protect her husband, but it wasn't necessary.

In a whirl of motion, Broom set itself upon Pavlov, whacking the dog repeatedly on the head like a bristly rolled-up newspaper. Whimpering and cowering, Pavlov let itself be herded into a corner, where it crouched, drooling miserably.

Viola pouted. "Oh, poor puppikins," she soothed, beckoning for Pavlov to come to her.

"Is that all you've got, Viola?" Teri planted her hands on her hips. "Parlor tricks?"

"Mrs. Laslowe," James cleared his throat. "I really must withdraw my suggestion that you discontinue therapy. Shall we meet in your sitting-room, say...next Wednesday?"

Viola just shrugged and stepped to the side, bringing her closer to Kat and Casper. "I don't need my head shrunk, you - " Here she stopped as her amulet began to hum loudly. "Energy!" she shouted. "Astral energy - a ton of it!"

Casper glanced down at himself. "Go ahead and drain me, I don't care!" he announced, puffing himself up and hoping his friends were impressed.

"Not you," snapped Viola, then she grabbed Kat by the arm. "This one."

"Kat!" cried Vic, lunging forward impulsively.

"Let her go!" demanded Nicky.

Viola pulled Kat closer, and the humming intensified. "What are you hiding, you little brat, hmm?"

Wysteria gasped as a bit of the pink cloud puff Kat had taken from Pandemonium oozed out of the teenager's back pocket.

Viola saw it at the same time, and while she was distracted Kat twisted free.

"Give me that!" ordered Viola.

Kat glowered. "Forget it!" she shouted, and instantly she was surrounded by a protective wall made up of Casper, Wendy, Vic, the twins, and Broom.

"What is that stuff?" Stretch wanted to know.

"It's pure Astral energy," Wynona replied. "Even a bit of that could turn Viola completely Astral in seconds."

"Really? Completely?" Stinkie shot a meaningful look at Fatso.

"Sounds good to me," replied Fatso. He reached through the barrier of adolescents (and Broom) to pluck the cloud from Kat's pocket.

"Hey!" shouted Kat. "What are you doing?"

"Demonstrating applied learning. Watch." Fatso tossed the cloud to Stinkie.

"Hey Viola," said Stinkie, waving the cloud like a Milk Bone. "You want this?"

"You miserable cockroach of a ghost," growled Viola, suddenly furious. "Let me have it!"

"You better let her have it," said Fatso.

"Okay," said Stinkie, and he lobbed the cloud at Viola, who caught it deftly in midair. It instantly vanished, and the amulet stopped humming and went from glowing faintly to glowing brightly.

"Hah!" crowed Viola.

"No!" cried Mina. "What have you done?"

Viola slowly began to turn transparent, energy streaming from her body. "_Now_, I'll - huh?" she interrupted herself, as a pitch black tear appeared in the corner, right on top of Pavlov, who disappeared into it with a surprised yelp. Viola began to be pulled towards it. "No!" she cried, trying to gain a foothold in the carpet. "This isn't supposed to happen!"

"What's going on?" yelled Kat over the roar of Astral wind that was sucking Viola into the rift. The widow was the only thing in the room affected by the vacuum.

"She's too Astral to remain on the Material Plane!" surmised Wysteria in surprise.

James blinked, and turned to Fatso and Stinkie. "You guys _were_ paying attention!" he exclaimed.

"Hey - what about our energy?" demanded Stretch, pointing to the amulet. Viola was now bracing herself against the sides of the rift and cursing.

"I'll get it!" Casper darted over to Viola and tried to get a hold of the amulet, figuring he could slip it over her head while she was busy clutching the sides of the tear.

But Viola released her grip with one hand to sieze Casper by the tail. "You!" she hissed. "I'll take you with me!"

"Casper!" cried Kat in terror.

Viola lost her remaining hold on the side of the tear and was immediately pulled out of sight. Casper managed to grab the edge to keep himself from being sucked completely in.

"Help!" he shouted. "She's still got me!"

Wendy was distraught. "What do we do?"

"Stand back," said Stretch, quickly fashioning a loop from the tapestry rope. He swung it over his head several times before hurling the lasso into the rift just as Casper disappeared with a yell.

The rope went taut.

"And you guys doubted my aim," Stretch smirked over his shoulder at Stinkie and Fatso exactly half a second before being yanked towards the rift. He was narrowly rescued by the other two ex-ghosts.

"Help!" Casper's voice repeated, distant and echoing.

"Heave!" shouted Fatso, and the Trio strained on the rope.

Kat gasped. "It's closing!" she cried, pointing to the Astral tear.

Casper appeared at the opening of the shrinking rift. "She...won't let go!"

Viola, still clutching Casper, was hoisted into view. "I'm not going just yet," she growled.

Behind her, deep in the rift, a canine voice slurped and yowled.

"No, no, down Pavlov!" Viola shouted over her shoulder. "No walkies! No waaaaalkies!" she cried as she lost her hold on Casper and was sucked out of sight. The rift closed immediately.

Casper, now pulled in only one direction, shot directly into Stretch, who fell backwards into Stinkie, who fell backwards into Fatso, who tumbled to the floor. The four of them lay in a heap.

Everyone rushed forward. "Casper," breathed James, "are you all right? Fellows?"

Casper and Stretch blinked at eachother for a moment. "Get off of me, Shortsheet!" Stretch finally grunted, shoving Casper away. He stumbled to his feet, assisted by the Wainwright sisters and James, who then helped Stinkie and Fatso up as well.

"But she's still got the amulet!" Wendy pointed out.

"No she doesn't - Ta da!" Casper announced proudly, holding up the softly glowing amulet. He gave it to Mina.

"That was really cool," said Vic. The twins agreed, slapping the small ghost on the back.

While the kids talked excitedly, Wynona turned to James. "Sorry you had to see that," she said.

"Uh..." James cleared his throat. "That wasn't so bad," he lied politely.

Mina beckoned to the Trio. "Let's get you gentlemen fixed up," she said.

Dibs miaowed loudly at her feet.

"Yes, yes," Mina smiled. "You too."

Wysteria turned to James as the Trio followed Mina towards the Dome Room door. Dibs started to join them, but paused at the doorway to listen. "I'll be sorry to see you leave Friendship," she said. "It's not too often we get to battle the forces of evil - as it were - let alone with help."

James crossed slowly to his daughter, who had fallen silent, and put his arm around her. "Well," he said, "as long as things are all right here."

"Yeah," agreed Kat. "You'll be okay, right Casper?"

Casper lowered his eyes, then glanced around at his new friends, who smiled encouragingly back at him. "Yeah," he said with a nod.

"Well," said James, "let's go - " he paused at the word 'home' - "back."


	10. Chapter Ten

_Chapter X_

Kat and James packed wordlessly, seated on the foyer floor. Casper looked out the window at the snow, which had begun to fall rather heavily. The Trio - ghosts once more - played above, laughing and chasing eachother and having a ball with the Harveys' sparse Christmas decorations, as there was no tree to put them on.

There was a knock at the front door.

Everyone looked up. James glanced at Kat, then went to see who would visit them so late on Christmas Eve.

"Hello Peter," he greeted Dibs. "Wendy," he added when the aforementioned's niece popped into view. "Won't you come in?"

"We won't be long," Dibs said as he and Wendy stepped into the foyer. "We just have a package for...Casper."

Wendy smiled and held out a large manilla envelope.

"For me?" Casper floated over. Above, Stretch paused in the middle of winding a silver tinsel garland around Stinkie's neck. The Trio watched silently.

"Well, Happy Christmas." Dibs smiled and stepped back outside.

"See you later," said Wendy with a grin. She followed her uncle, and James closed the door after them.

"What is it, Casper?" Kat was practically bursting.

Casper slowly opened the envelope and slid out a bundle of papers, some crisp, many old and yellow. He read the recently-dated cover letter to himself. "I don't understand," he said at last. He looked up at the Harveys. "This says that I own Whipstaff. Even though I'm a ghost."

"Let me see that," said James. He took the cover letter. "It's signed by the Mayor," he pointed out, noting several childish scrawls around the paper's margin.

"This letter was written by my father," Casper went on quietly, scanning the next paper in the stack. "He left the house to me, if it could be proven that I haunt it."

Kat frowned. "Is it proven?" she asked.

James nodded. "Yes," he said. "The Mayor acknowledges the presence of spirits - for the tourist attraction."

Kat harrumphed. "I bet it's not Casper he _really_ acknowledges," she said in a whisper.

"Yeah," agreed Casper, turning around. "Hey guys!" he said, holding up his father's letter. "Look! I own Whipstaff. The Harveys don't have to go."

The Trio were gravely silent for a few moments. Stinkie and Fatso, who appeared concerned, looked expectantly at Stretch, who for his part seemed lost in thought. Finally, the tall ghost looked round at his companions; then, handing the garland to Stinkie, floated down to Casper. Stinkie and Fatso followed in silence.

"That's uh...that's real nice, there, Casper," Stretch said slowly, examining the letter the small ghost held up to him.

Casper beamed with pride, because he could sense that Stretch really meant it. "Yeah," he said. "Isn't it great? I actually own it."

Stretch nodded. Behind him, Stinkie and Fatso burst into a shortlived bout of agreeable comments, before falling silent again.

"Well," said Stretch suddenly, drawing himself up. "The best joints fill up quick on the holidays so we'd better get goin', boys."

The Harveys and Casper frowned in confusion.

"See ya Doc," Stretch went on as Stinkie and Fatso gathered behind him, not making eye contact with anybody. "Later, Bulbhead. Adios...Kat." And with that the Trio headed for the ceiling.

"Wait!" cried Casper, suddenly realizing what was happening. He handed the stack of papers to Kat and began floating after his 'uncles'.

Stinkie and Fatso looked back at the small ghost, but Stretch didn't take his eyes from the ceiling.

Casper flew up to intercept the tall ghost. "Don't leave," he said as they stopped.

"Outta the way, Sta-Puft," Stretch told him. "A deal's a deal."

Casper shook his head. "No," he protested, casting glances at the Harveys. "I don't want you to go," Casper went on, facing Stretch again.

"Yeah, right," grunted Fatso.

"No way you'd want us around _your_ house," added Stinkie.

Casper exhaled in exhasperation. "Come on, guys," he pleaded. "You're like, my family. I wouldn't want my family to leave. I - " He looked down at James and Kat, who nodded. "_We_ really want you to stay."

While Stinkie and Fatso seemed relieved, Stretch was hesitant.

"Oh, don't pull that 'friendly ghost' garbage with us," the tall ghost snapped, narrowing his eyes. "We don't want your charity. Do we, boys?"

Stinkie and Fatso examined the chandelier.

"Um," said Casper, thinking fast. "Well, I wouldn't even _have_ the house if it weren't for you guys, you know."

"Yeah? And how's that?"

"Well," explained Casper, glancing down at Kat, "you're the ones the Mayor officially recognizes as the haunters of Whipstaff, not me at all." He clasped his hands behind his back. "So...it might be _my_ name on the deed, but it's only because of _your_ skills as...real scary ghosts."

"That's right," agreed James. "You three are the only ones who _really_ haunt this place."

"I couldn't haunt a dollhouse!" concluded Casper.

Stretch looked over his shoulder at Stinkie and Fatso, who nodded eagerly. "Well..." He met James' eyes briefly, then looked back at Casper. "For once you've got a point on that round head of yours," he said finally. He turned around. "Come on, boys, let's go mess with the lighthouse lamp again."

Casper floated back down to the Harveys as the Trio shot off through a wall. "No prizes on if I'm going to regret doing that," he smiled.

Kat burst into a grin. "Don't worry," she said. "I plan on forcing them to help me write that American History assignment I have to do now that I'll be going back to school in January. I'm sure they'll _love_ that." She hugged Casper.

Then they both hugged James, who for once had nothing to add.

* * *

_Let's see...Casper, Wendy, and the Ghostly Trio are copyright © Harvey Entertainment. Dr. James Harvey, Kat Harvey, Vic, Nicky Steubing, Andreas Steubing, and Dibs are copyright © Universal Pictures. All other characters are copyright © Cynthia "Sparky" Read (technically the Wainwright sisters are the property of Harvey but as I gave them new names and personalities I rather thought I could have them ;). _

_Story copyright © 1996 by Cynthia "Sparky" Read _


End file.
